Vector's Challenge

Chapter 13

When Emmy Vector got back to Hogwarts early on Friday morning, she checked her post box at her quarters. She usually didn't get that much post here at the school. However, this day she had a note from Lucius Malfoy. He "requested and required a conference with her." She checked the date. Unfortunately, he planned on meeting with her that afternoon.

"Requests and requires" a bloody parent-teacher conference. Maybe he's not as much of an utter pillock as that makes him sound, but what are the odds? Just bloody wonderful, Emmy thought. What a way to start the weekend. At least from there, it can only go up. And Snape had managed to keep his nose clean for another day. She was probably going to lose the bet.

She frowned as she looked at her wardrobe. It would have to be the navy blue robes that day, with a cream-colored shirtwaist showing underneath. That would convey the proper air of authority. It was a pity that her diplomas were hanging on the wall at her office at the University. Although Lucius Malfoy probably would not be impressed by a first in maths at Oxford, and then a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. Ah well, at least her certificate for excellence in Arithmancy was here.

She composed a quick reply to Malfoy, stating that she would be in her office at 11 a.m., but unfortunately unavailable all that afternoon, and owled it off. She wanted this meeting to take place while there were still teachers and students moving around the castle. If the father was as unpleasant as the son, she wanted witnesses within earshot. Then she composed notes to the Heads of Houses stating that she was canceling her eleven-o'-clock class.

Malfoy Senior showed up late, of course. It was quite all right, because it gave her time to drop the silencing charms that she had up to prevent eavesdropping.

"My dear Miss Professor Vector," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Courtesy and condescencion all in one. How economical. Emmy controlled her urge to wipe her hand on her robes. "I'm so glad that I could meet with you."

Emmy sat down at her desk. Lucius remained standing at first, and Emmy had to indicate the chair with a wave of her hand. He shook his head at her. "This won't take that long, Miss Vector. I just have a few things to explain to you."

Emmy stood up then, and said in a very dry tone, "I see. Far be it from me to keep you waiting, sir. What did you request this meeting for?" She could not call him Malfoy without thinking of his son, but she could call him sir. She had learned from dealing with policemen in Chicago and at Notre Dame football games that the word sir could have an infinite number of meanings. Here, it was outwardly respectful, but inwardly, she was thinking that he was a complete and utter waste of protoplasm.

Lucius gave her a thin smile. "I've been receiving the most interesting reports from my son Draco about this class. I'm a trifle," he paused for a long while, "concerned about what you are teaching him."

Emmy tilted her head. "Arithmancy?" she prompted him, as though she were dealing with a first-year.

Lucius shook his head. "That's what you're paid to do. My concern is that you're teaching my son something else besides Arithmancy."

"And what exactly would that be, sir?" Emmy asked. Keep on playing the fish until you get enough rope to hang him with, girl, she thought.

"Well. To spell it out, my concern is that you are overstepping your role and indoctrinating him in Muggle religion."

"How? " Emmy asked in a puzzled tone. "I point out the mistakes that Muggles make in analysis fairly frequently. And besides, it's not only Muggles who have religion, sir."

Lucius smiled. "Well, you are part Muggle yourself, so of course you wouldn't be expected to know what goes on in the truly pure-blooded families."

"Such as the Macmillans, for instance?" Emmy murmured. "And in any case, I was under the impression that a good amount of the pure-blooded families practiced Paganism, sir. Which is also a religion."

"Ah, yes, indeed. We practice Paganism, Miss Vector, and not the papist nonsense that you teach."

Emmy's eyes burned. "What did you just say about my religion, sir?" Her hand gripped her wand tightly. Oh, I would love to hit this bastard with a really nasty hex. Touch me just once, Malfoy, and you'll wake up in the middle of next week.

Malfoy gave her a thin smile. "Oh, come now, my dear Miss Vector. The only reason I allow Draco to study Arithmancy is that it's slightly less nonsense than that fraud Trelawney's Divination."

She grew irritated at Malfoy's dropping her title of Professor. "On the contrary, sir," she said in a very clipped tone. "I find Arithmancy quite fascinating and useful, especially when combined with the mathematics that I learned at Oxford and the University of Chicago, sir."

"Yes, and we all know that the only way Muggle women get their advanced degrees is by sleeping with their professors," Lucius Malfoy replied.

"Oh, I wish that you had told me that before I started, sir. I had to write theses and journal articles and defend a dissertation to get my degrees."

"You insolent Mudblood," Malfoy hissed.

Emmy brought up her wand. "The last person who called me that was a Death Eater who killed my husband," she retorted.

"Oh, really?" Malfoy asked, looking pleased.

"Yes, and I killed him," Emmy replied.

"How?" he asked skeptically. "Are you confessing to using the Killing Curses?"

Emmy grinned, and a weird light shone in her eyes. The old rhyme, The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad/ For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad, sang out in her head. She spat out, "No. I stabbed him to death, and I was in a hurry, so it took him a very long time to die. My husband the med student taught me to go for the carotid artery, lights out in 2.5 seconds, so that was what I did to the second one. The third one got my knife away from me, so I had to crush his larynx with my bare hands, and he choked to death. Life in Chicago taught me a few things about self-defense."

Lucius looked green. "That's barbaric."

"Oh, and murdering innocent people isn't?" Emmy asked.

Malfoy took a step back. "You'll regret this," he said. He turned, stalked out of her office, and slammed the door behind him.

"Oh, no," Emmy whispered. "I'm glad I met you. Now I realize your son is doing amazingly well under the circumstances."