Remedial History

Chapter Five: Shadows of the Past

"You are, I hope, working on your own histories?" Nearly Headless Nick asked at the beginning of the next class. "Is anybody having any difficulties?"

Theo was having plenty of difficulties, but he didn't feel like mentioning them in front of the whole class. Neither, apparently, did any of the other students.

"Good," said the substitute professor. "Then it seems only fair that I should share mine with you, though I warn you that it is not a noble one. This is the story of my gravest error. I make no excuses for it; it was the product of my own cowardice and my tendency to trust too readily." Nick tried to bow his head for a moment, and had to lift it back onto his shoulders again.

"Have any of you used a Pensieve?" he asked. Only Harry Potter raised his hand. "Harry, why don't you explain how it works so your classmates will understand?"

"It's a sort of ... of a bowl that stores memories," said Harry. "And if other people go inside it while your memories are in there, they can see the same things you saw. It's like being there yourself, only other people can't see and hear you."

"Ghosts have the power to share their memories in much the same way, but without a Pensieve. We are able to project them into any empty space," explained Nick. "And because we have had many years to distance ourselves from the events of our lives and contemplate their significance, our memories are somewhat different from the human memories you see in a Pensieve. They tend to be less substantial but more complex. Those who are sensitive enough can perceive emotions as well as images. I will darken the room so we can see more clearly."

Nick wafted a drift of freezing air across the room, dimming the candles. He closed his eyes and his face took on a look of concentration. A shimmering mist seemed to fill the front of the classroom; slowly it acquired shape and a little color. A great castle appeared, surrounded by a cluster of artisan's shops and little cottages, with fields and forests stretching into the distance as far as the eye could see. A carter guided his horse through streets that seemed impossibly narrow; dirty-faced children played in the castle's shadow; a tavern-keeper ejected a drunken customer.

"This is my world," Nick said softly. "The England of the fifteenth century. In those days, the Muggle and wizard worlds were not yet divided from one another as they are now. Instead of being sent to Hogwarts, many of our children were educated alongside the children of noble families, with a little extra tutoring in magic from the resident witch or wizard - for every great household in those days had at least one. It was a system that had endured for centuries, but this was an age of civil wars, divided loyalties, and increasing suspicion of those with magical powers. The great witch trials were yet to come, but the charge of witchcraft was often inextricably linked with that of treason, and treason in those days meant death.

"I had reason to know this personally. A dear friend of mine, Ankarette Twynho, was put to death after the king's brother George, Duke of Clarence, accused her of causing his wife's death by sorcery. She was innocent, but Clarence's own servants, the wizards John Stacey and Thomas Burdett, were hanged just before their experiments in Dark magic would have caused the death of King Edward and his eldest son."

As Nicholas spoke, faces appeared out of the mist. Ankarette Twynho was a pink-cheeked, gentle-looking witch; John Stacey was shabbily dressed and absorbed in a book on the Dark Arts; Thomas Burdett wore rich robes and looked supercilious.

"The attempt on his brother's life cost Clarence his own, but there were many Dark wizards left in England and many ambitious royal relatives. My master had good cause to be concerned about the safety of King Edward's young sons after their father died suddenly in the spring of 1483."

The scene shifted to a walled city surrounded by green fields filled with blossoming daisies. Nearly Headless Nick was walking on the city walls. He seemed younger, and Theo supposed he must be alive; the whole scene looked a bit ghostly, but Nick was no more ghostly than the rest of it. Another man walked beside him, his slight figure covered in rich brocades. One of his shoulders was higher than the other, and he limped a little. His mouth looked stern and tight, and although he could not have been much older than thirty, his face was creased as if he had known great pain and sorrow.

A great cathedral rose at the edge of the walls. The tops of its towers looked as delicate as drip-castles on the beach, and its stonework was like lace, and yet, as the men drew nearer, Theo saw that it was as grand and massive as a palace.

"That's York Minster," whispered Anna to Polly. "We went there on a school trip the year before I came to Hogwarts."

Theo was amazed that something so strong and so beautiful could be Muggle-built.

Nick nodded at Anna's words. "Yes," he said. "My lord had three great loves: his brother the king, the common people of England, and the city of York. He spent most of his life mediating between the first two, for they were often at odds with one another. The third had his uncomplicated devotion, even after his father's head had been nailed to the city gates wearing a paper crown for the passers-by to jeer at. These walls and stones were in his blood."

"Thou knowest, Nicholas," the other man was saying, "that I love my brother's sons as if they were my own." And suddenly Theo saw what Nick had meant about sensing emotions. He had a clear picture of a boy of about ten who lay with his head on a silken pillow, coughing his life away. He understood as if by instinct that this was the man's own son and that his father had come to accept the prospect of the child's death as a near certainty.

Nicholas nodded. "Aye, my Lord. You have been the best of uncles to them."

"Pray heaven they have no worse uncles elsewhere," said Nicholas' companion. His words were cryptic, but his voice had a venomous note that made Theo shiver.

"Yes, my Lord."

"'My Lord' this and 'my Lord' that," said the other man with gentle mockery. He smiled, and his face softened. Theo began to like him. "Thou wast ready enough to call me 'thou' and 'Richard' once. Do so now. I am not yet grown so old, nor so great, that thou hast need to fear me."

Nick bowed deeply. "Yes, my Lord Richard of Gloucester."

Richard smiled again, rather sadly, and shook his head. "That was not what I meant," he said. "Hear me out, Nicholas. I am Duke of Gloucester and, at best, Lord Protector of England and guardian to the young king - if Parliament and Council honor my brother's dying wishes, and if none of the queen's kinsfolk raise a rebellion or stab me in the back some dark night. On the other hand, thou - art the sort of man who would have no need of sword or dagger if he wished to put an end to me." (Theo was confused by this for a moment, and then realized that Nick's lord must be a Muggle.) "Am I right?"

Nicholas nodded.

"Then we are equals, or to say rightly, thou hast the advantage of me. 'Tis well that I trust thee as I trust no other living soul."

"Do you not trust the queen, my Lord? Would she disinherit her own sons?"

"I know not, Nicholas. She hath too many brothers and brothers-in-law - and two grown sons from her first marriage, and all of them hungry for power."

"Aye, and in these times a child on the throne is like a lamb amongst wolves. I like not the prospect." They climbed down from the city walls as they approached the Minster. Nicholas paused on the stone stairway and looked at his lord. "Do you not think you would make a better king yourself, Lord Richard? You have governed the North well and wisely these ten years."

Richard's face darkened. "God forbid. Never speak to me of such a matter again. I will not accept the crown while my brother's children live and while there is breath in my body to defend it for them."

The mist dissolved as the two men walked into the cathedral.

Nearly Headless Nick asked Anna to relight the candles. "That is all we have time for tonight," he said. "At the requiem Mass for his brother that day, my master met with all the nobles of the North and made them swear loyalty to the young King Edward the Fifth, but he feared that the southern men were already plotting rebellion. As you shall hear, we came up with a ruse that we hoped would keep the boy king and his younger brother safe."

After the class ended, Theo approached the substitute professor and explained his problem. "I've only written about three inches," he said. "Whenever I try to think about the past, I just remember a lot of things that don't really matter, like little details about people, and conversations that aren't important."

"But these things do matter, Theodore," said Nick. "You will not understand my own story, nor why I feel so strongly that it must be told, if you do not notice the little details that tell you what manner of man Richard of Gloucester was. Whether or not a thing seems significant to you, write it down if it comes to mind. The important thing is that you be honest in doing so."

Theo returned to the Slytherin common room after class and curled up in a corner with his quill and parchment. His three inches of essay left off with the train journey to Hogwarts and his first meeting with Blaise. He thought about that day for a moment, and began writing furiously...

* * *

After he boarded the train, he had found a compartment with only one student inside it. The other occupant was dark-haired and good-looking, and he gazed out the window with a slightly bored, world-weary expression. Theo supposed he must be a second- or third-year.

"Hello," said Theo, feeling rather shy.

"Hello." The stranger spoke pleasantly, but he didn't seem inclined to make conversation. Theo settled into the seat opposite him and watched the suburbs of London give way to rolling green hills.

Around one o'clock in the afternoon, a smiling witch stopped outside of their compartment with her cart full of sweets and baked goods. Theo bought a couple of Cauldron Cakes with the money his sister had given him, and decided almost immediately that he wasn't really hungry after all. He was beginning to feel train-sick from riding backwards. The other boy bought nothing, and he didn't seem to have brought a lunch from home either.

"Would you like one of these?" Theo offered.

The boy hesitated a moment, and then said "Thanks," with a reserved, thin-lipped smile. He devoured the Cauldron Cake in two bites.

"You can have the other one, too," said Theo quickly.

"No, thank you," said the stranger. His voice was polite, but a little cooler than it had been, and a slight flush spread across his face. Theo had a feeling he was very hungry but didn't want people to know it.

"Really, I'm not going to eat it. I don't feel very well, but I don't want it to go to waste."

After another brief pause, the boy wolfed down the second Cauldron Cake and began staring out the window again.

The sky grew heavy with low-hanging clouds as the train rolled northward, past wind-swept moorland and fields of sheep huddled together in the rain, past industrial cities filled with soot-blackened Victorian buildings and modern blocks of flats like grey boxes. It all looked rather dreary to Theo, who wondered if the sun ever shone at Hogwarts. He dozed off for a few hours. The sky had already darkened when he was awakened by a knock at the compartment door.

Theo stifled a groan as Draco Malfoy stepped into their compartment. Two thickset boys flanked him like bodyguards. One of them had a handkerchief wrapped around his finger, which was bleeding profusely.

Draco gave Theo the briefest of nods and approached the dark-haired stranger. "I don't believe we've met. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and this is Crabbe and Goyle." He gestured toward the two boys behind him. Theo wondered if they had first names.

"My name is Blaise Zabini," said the other boy. Theo noticed for the first time that he had a funny accent.

"Zabini ... That's a pretty well-known name in some parts of the world, isn't it?" said Draco. "Where are you from?"

Blaise said something that sounded like "Moreal."

"Where's that?" asked Theo.

"Canada."

"Why did your parents send you so far away?" asked Draco.

"Well, my father's not exactly proud of me," Blaise said curtly. "I was born on the wrong side of the blanket, you know."

Theo was puzzled. He wondered why Blaise's mother had chosen to give birth underneath a blanket, but since Blaise appeared to have survived the experience without suffocating, he also didn't understand why this would make his father any less proud of him. He didn't ask. Questions were not encouraged in the Nott household.

"What d'you mean, 'born on the wrong side of the blanket'?" asked Crabbe.

Blaise sighed and looked at Crabbe as if he were inexpressibly stupid. "You know how when a mommy witch loves a daddy wizard very much, they touch each other in a special way, and about nine months later, there's a new baby witch or wizard? Well, sometimes when a mommy witch and a daddy wizard don't love each other very much, the daddy wizard finds a different witch to make babies with. This is called being born on the wrong side of the blanket, having the bar sinister, or in plain English, being a bastard."

"Oh," said Crabbe. Theo was glad he hadn't been the one to ask.

"But your mother is our sort?" said Draco.

"Take your choice," said Blaise in a bored voice. "She's a waitress, but she'll tell you she's pureblood twenty generations back if you ask her. And usually when you don't."

"Well, if she's a pureblood and your father is a Zabini, that's what counts," said Draco, with the air of one who was an authority on such matters. "My mother was one of the Black sisters. Have you heard of the House of Black in Canada?"

"Can't say I have," said Blaise absently. "It's a common name, isn't it?"

"It's the name of one of the oldest wizarding families in England," replied Draco. "Useful people to be connected with. So are the Malfoys. You'll want to choose your acquaintances carefully in this country - there are a lot of the wrong sort about." He gestured toward Theo. "Nott's father, for instance, keeps a dead-rat shop. Not especially useful unless you happen to own a Chinese restaurant, but better than being a mudblood. Lot of them about as well."

Draco held out his hand, which Blaise didn't shake. "I grew up above a Chinese restaurant. My mother and I shared a single room, and we had to go down the hall when we wanted to wash. So now you know. I'm not the right sort either."

Blaise might describe himself as the wrong sort, but Theo knew beyond a doubt that it was Draco who had just been snubbed. He led the other two boys out of the compartment without another word.

The train slowed and a voice announced, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." Most of the students got to their feet and jammed the corridors near the doors. When Blaise stood up, Theo saw that his school robes were frayed and ended three inches above his ankles, as if he'd got them secondhand. He hadn't noticed before because Blaise had kept his feet tucked behind his trunk throughout the journey.

As they stepped out onto the platform, a thunderous voice called, "Firs' years, follow me! All firs' years this way!"

Theo looked up at a fierce-looking face almost hidden by black, shaggy hair. "Is he a ... a giant?" he whispered.

"Can't be," said Blaise casually. "Real giants are much bigger than that." If that was true, Theo hoped he would never meet one.

"Oh, that's only Hagrid the gamekeeper. I heard he's a sort of savage," Draco explained with relish. "He lives in a hut, and keeps illegal and dangerous creatures, and he can't do proper magic but sometimes he gets drunk and sets fire to things."

Theo gulped, but he didn't dare disobey someone as large as Mr. Hagrid. He was surprised to see Blaise follow the gamekeeper as well. So this strange, sophisticated boy was a first-year, after all.

Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a girl Theo didn't know piled into one of the little boats sitting by the lake shore, while Blaise and Theo ended up in another boat with a square-jawed girl called Millicent, who took up enough space for two normal-sized students and kept pinching Theo's arm. Theo tried to ignore the pain. He didn't want to get in a fight with a girl, especially one who weighed twice as much as he did.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" called Mr. Hagrid as they were getting out of the boats. Theo was afraid for a moment that he was the one being addressed, but luckily Buffy was still tucked firmly in his pocket. They trudged through an underground passageway that seemed endless, Millicent deliberately stepping on the heels of Theo's shoes as she walked behind him. A strict-looking witch who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall led them into the castle. She was almost normal-sized, but Theo found her even more intimidating than Mr. Hagrid.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said in a not-especially-welcoming voice. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room..." She went on to explain about earning House points and the House Cup, all of which was old news to Theo, who had heard about it from Lavinia. Perhaps they had something like the House system in Canada, because Blaise didn't seem to be listening very hard either.

Professor McGonagall left them for a moment, and about twenty pearly white ghosts suddenly floated through the wall. A few students screamed. Theo was too frightened to make a sound.

"New students!" said a fat and transparent monk. "About to be Sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know!"

Theo silently implored God, Merlin, the Sorting Hat, and every other power he could think of that he would not be placed in Hufflepuff.

When Professor McGonagall returned, she led them into the Great Hall, which was by far the biggest and grandest room Theo had ever seen. He stared at the House tables hung with banners, the candles that hovered in midair, and the starry ceiling in awe. He missed the first verse of the Sorting Hat's song and only half-heard the rest, which seemed to consist of a long list of good qualities belonging to the various Houses. Theo was sure he didn't possess any of them.

"Where d'you think you'll end up?" he whispered to Blaise as the first student, Hannah Abbott, was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

"It doesn't make much difference, does it?" Blaise said. "All this business about House spirit and House points - it's the sort of thing adults make up to keep us in line."

Professor McGonagall called "Bulstrode, Millicent!" and Millicent gave Theo a last pinch and stepped forward.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Not much of a looker, is she?" whispered Draco to his cronies. "Kind of a girl version of you, Goyle."

"Charming-the-way-he-talks-to-his-friends," muttered Blaise. "And he thinks I'd want to be one of them." Theo nodded his heartfelt agreement, although Draco had never actually tried to cultivate Theo as a friend.

Vincent Crabbe and a girl named Tracey Davis joined Millicent at the Slytherin table. Tracey looked all right; she seemed very ordinary, like Theo, with brown braids that kept coming undone at the ends.

"Goyle, Gregory!"

The hat took a moment to decide, but finally shouted "SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione!" This was a bushy-haired girl who seemed very bossy. Theo didn't think he liked her.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Greengrass, Daphne!" She had short, sleek dark hair and was rather pretty, but Theo thought she looked stuck-up.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Horton, Anna!" A fair-haired girl placed the hat on her head as solemnly as if she were at a funeral.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Theo began to feel increasingly nervous about it all. What if Lavinia was wrong about people not ending up where they didn't want to go? Or worse yet, what if she was right and the hat sensed that Theo didn't really want to be in any House at all? Would he be sent back home on an empty train, or would he have to go and live in a hut full of illegal and dangerous creatures with Mr. Hagrid? And what if the Ministry of Magic thought the illegal creatures were his and arrested him? Would he go to prison?

A burst of laughter brought him back to reality. A boy called Neville Longbottom had run off to the Gryffindor table with the hat still on his head. Well, Theo thought, at least I'll probably remember not to do that. I hope.

"Moon, Dionysius!"

A long pause, and then, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Nott, Theodore!"

It was time, then. The walk to the stool seemed to take hours, and the hat felt very heavy as he placed it on his head.

Interesting, said a small disembodied voice. Theo jumped. Could be Gryffindor...

Gryffindor? thought Theo. Are you kidding me? Scared of giants, scared of ghosts, scared of hats ... scared of school ...

True courage means coming face to face with our fears and conquering them, said the hat. Not being afraid at all is a sort of false courage - second-best.

Theo didn't really understand this, but he was used to not understanding things. Well, not Gryffindor anyway. My sister'll kill me.

All right then, maybe you are NOT a Gryffindor. This was the answer he'd asked for, wasn't it? Why didn't he like it?

And not Hufflepuff. Please not Hufflepuff.

No? I think you have a fine sense of justice, and you are willing to work. But loyalty is another matter. I sense that you may one day be in a position where you must betray - one side or the other ... And you are not precisely Ravenclaw material, though you possess more than a touch of cunning. I see a trace of ruthlessness as well. Yes, I reckon it had better be - SLYTHERIN!

Theo slid down from the stool and staggered to the Slytherin table. It wasn't until his initial flood of relief had worn off that he began to go over the hat's words in his mind. Was it his imagination, or had he just been judged not good enough for the other three houses?

Blaise sat down next to him, and he realized the Sorting was over. Professor Dumbledore said something very strange (Theo was afraid for a minute that the Headmaster was calling him a nitwit and oddment, but "blubber" didn't seem to fit because he had always been skinny), and the feast began.

"That was weird," said Theo, helping himself to a lamb chop and some fried potatoes. "It took ages to decide, and it went through all this business about courage and loyalty ... and it didn't say anything at all about ambition, and that's what Slytherin is meant to be about, isn't it?"

Blaise didn't answer because his mouth was too full of roast beef. Theo's impression on the train had been correct: he ate as if he were starving.

"Did it take long with you?" Theo asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Nah, it said Slytherin right off. But I wouldn't take anything it says too seriously. I think it likes playing head games."

Theo hadn't been altogether sure whether he liked Blaise until the day Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode had found him walking alone and dragged him into an empty corridor, where they all ganged up on him at once. By the end of it he wasn't even trying to fight back, just hoping desperately that someone would hear his screams. They left him alone after they took every scrap of dignity he possessed.

Theo slunk into the boys' bathroom, where he pressed some damp paper towels against his bleeding nose and tried to smooth his hair. Unfortunately he couldn't do anything about the bruises that were beginning to appear.

The bathroom door opened. Theo almost bolted into one of the stalls, thinking Crabbe or Goyle had come after him, but it was only Blaise Zabini. "What happened?" asked the Canadian boy. "You look like you got attacked by that little puppy dog of Hagrid's."

Before Theo could stop himself, the whole story had come pouring out. He felt embarrassed. "I, um, would you mind not telling people I got beaten up by a girl?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd describe Millicent Bulstrode as a girl exactly," said Blaise, with an air of giving the question careful consideration. "It's my opinion that she's part troll and part dump truck." He offered Theo another handful of paper towels.

Theo managed a smile.

Of course Crabbe and Goyle couldn't resist telling the story to the rest of the first-year Slytherins, but it wasn't as humiliating as Theo had expected. Daphne and Pansy laughed, but Tracey Davis came up to him in the common room afterward and said, too softly for anyone else to hear, "I can't believe they're bragging about three people ganging up on one. I call it cowardly."

She challenged Theo to a game of wizard chess and told him he'd played well after she checkmated him - and Blaise, who had watched the whole game in silence, gave Theo a few tips that helped him win the rematch. He began to feel better about school. It was good to have friends.