A Revised History of Hogwarts

A Revised History of Hogwarts

Chapter 4

"Wake up, Baddock!" James groaned, shoving Bernhard's shoulder. "We have to meet in the Great Hall in twenty minutes."

Bernhard rolled over and opened his curtains all the way, falling out of bed. James was walking out the door, and outside Bernhard heard some of the younger students walking by, murmuring about something.

He glanced out the window; it was foggy outside, and there was a layer of frost on the windowsill. Bernhard silently thanked the school for having glass windows instead of stretched-out fabric as his family had or oiled paper as did Durmstrang. The sun wasn't up yet, and the only light Bernhard had was the low glowing embers of the fire and a little beam of light from his wand.

Bernhard tossed on his clothes and ran his fingers through his recently washed hair; he'd heard that Helena would be in his group, and he wanted to make a good impression. He poured some water from his pitcher into the basin on his washstand and splashed some water on his face, then scrubbed off his arms with some harsh lye soap. Using the hem of his bed draperies as a towel, he heard James' voice call from the hallway, "Come on Bernhard. We've gotta go!"

Bernhard followed James out into the hallway in silence. The younger boy was very pushy, and Bernhard didn't really like that.

They were joined at the hall by a few of the younger Hufflepuff girls. Christina Neuenschweimer and Rowena Moody were chatting excitedly about some of the boys they knew would be in their groups. "I heard," said Christina excitedly, "that Lawrence Snowe is in my group!"

"No!" Rowena giggled. "He's the reason I would never miss a Potions class!"

"Who's in your group, Bernhard?" Christina asked the boy in a vain attempt to make him more social. She moved to walk beside him.

Bernhard looked at the girl a little reserved, then replied simply, "A couple of second years."

"Oh. Well that's... nice," Christina said brightly before turning back to her friend, who nudged her with her elbow. James just stared at Bernhard for a minute then looked away. He never thought he'd get to understand his roommate. Girls flocked to him, probably because they think he needs mothering, he sniffed; and yet, this guy was never willing to carry a conversation with anyone.

They reached the Great Hall and took seats at their house table, Bernhard as always claiming a seat far away from everyone else, but still close enough that he could clearly understand what Christina, Rowena and their friend from Ravenclaw named Willey were saying. He listed, very bored, to their inane chatter for a few minutes, munching on some fruit and milk on the table.

Finally all the students had arrived and had a little to eat, so Prof. Gryffindor stood at the head table, holding his hands up for silence. "I am pleased to see you all in high spirits," he orated to the still-whispering students. "For this day marks the first of what I hope will be many Field Days in the history of Hogwarts."

This was supposed to be an applause line, and Gryffindor smiled broadly out over the crowd of dazed children before continuing, "The school has been divided into six teams: Dominus, Pilchre, Pacis, Sanctus, Vinco and Militis. Dominus will be headed-up by your History Professor, James Stout. If the following students will please step up to the front of the room: Monroe, Caitlyn!"

Caitlyn stood and slowly approached the Head Table where Prof. Stout was standing, smiling broadly out over the group. He tipped his hat to Caitlyn, and to all the other students who would be in his group.

Only two girls Bernhard knew were placed in Pilchre, lead by the librarian Francesca Combs, and he zoned out through Pacis and Sanctus.

Then his group came. Salazar Slytherin would be his group leader. "Bernhard Baddock," Slytherin took over the calling of his students, probably so that he wouldn't have to stand around looking foolish during the drawn-out process. Bernhard stumbled to the front and stood beside his teacher, feeling smaller and smaller beside the man.

"William Beck," said Slytherin. One of the third-year Slytherin boys strutted toward the head of the room, smiling deviously at Bernhard. He pushed his brown hair out of his eyes and sedately put his hands behind his back, making Bernhard very suspicious of him.

"Jason Croft." The alarmingly large Slytherin fourth-year came to the front of the room. He didn't look at Bernhard, though; actually, he rarely seemed to be looking at anything, he just stared off into space unless being given an order by Malcolm Malfoy.

"Bryn Luaithre." A slight second-year from Bernhard's own house stepped forward, looking a little scared. Eyeing Slytherin suspiciously, she stood near Bernhard, then she turned her suspicious looks to Will.

"I heard abo't him," the girl whispered to Bernhard. "He's got a way o' playin' tricks on people what no one catches."

Bernhard, who hadn't grown up speaking this Teutonic language (and apparently neither had Bryn), took a moment to figure out what the girl was trying to say. "I'll be careful," he replied.

"Evelyn MacMarrow."

Will smiled more broadly as the girl approached. Her dark red hair twisted with a black ribbon flowing behind her and a resolute look on her face, she stopped to stand beside Will who leaned over and whispered something into her ear. Evelyn snickered, which made a feeling of apprehension well up in Bernhard's throat.

"Helena Potter." Bernhard blushed as she stepped forward lightly, tiredness showing on her pale face. Her black hair was tied simply, and she had slung over her arm a brown cloak.

"Aodh Reiley." A little Hufflepuff second-year walked toward the front quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She stood near Bryn, her brown eyes turned toward her feet.

No one else piqued Bernhard's interest; the group had a total of twelve students, and they were lead out of the Great Hall by a silent Prof. Slytherin. Bernhard walked out with Bryn and Marcus Vector, another second-year in Hufflepuff.

"So where a' you from?" Bryn asked Bernhard, whispering.

"A Norse canal town," Bernhard replied as he stepped down the large wooden stairs in front of the castle.

"Ah. I am from Oriel, neighboring the land of Meath."

"I'll ask for silence," Prof. Slytherin said to the group, stopping. "Come gather around; I'll not have any of you miss my instructions."

Bernhard was getting scared. Slytherin, although not a bad person overall, didn't particularly like working with students outside of class. He had a Class-Is-The-Only-Time-I-Want-To-Deal-With-You sort of mentality, which often made Bernhard wonder why he took up teaching, but no matter. Despite that, he was a decent teacher, and he did try to help every student excel, even if he didn't like most of them.

Slytherin cleared his throat, a clear sign to everyone that he wasn't in a good mood, and that they should be quiet. "Today I will be leading you north, into the mountains once inhabited by the Picts, to study some Dark creatures in their natural habitat."

There was murmuring all around the group. Everyone had come to expect something like this. "Won't this be fun!" Bryn giggled to Marcus and himself, but Bernhard was too distracted to notice.

A little ways away, William Beck and Evelyn MacMarrow were whispering to each other, and they would both occasionally glance back to Bernhard. Once Evelyn caught Bernhard's eye and she winked at him, making him all the more uneasy.

Prof. Fudge, a very small woman with long gray hair plaited and wound into a knot behind her head, was leading a small troupe of winged horses toward the group. Bernhard saw these horses and froze; would they be traveling on these? Visions of himself falling from far above the treetops, arms flailing madly while the other students laughed maliciously at his pathetic fate spun around in his mind.

"If you can ride a horse, you can ride a pegasus," Prof. Slytherin explained, puling out a pair of brown leather gloves from a pocket inside his cloak and slipping them onto his hands. "We have thirteen pegasus; one for each person," he continued, "and if I have to rescue any of you from the air, you will not like the consequences."

Bernhard swallowed. He looked at the horses; they weren't what he'd expected pegasus to look like. He'd heard stories of great, glowing beasts, like unicorns, flying gracefully and all that. But these were average Spanish horses, only with large wings tucked near their shoulder blades. All the students began to choose their Pegasus, and Bernhard picked out one which was white with big brown spots. All the mounts were equipped with saddles and reigns, like the horses his family had used to get him to Hogwarts.

Prof. Slytherin, having claimed a very large chestnut-colored mare, watched as his students fumbled onto the backs of these creatures. "Get your leg up, Weasley," he called to a little Gryffindor third-year girl. "Don't kick him so hard."

Laura Weasley looked back at Prof. Slytherin with some disdain, but she tried again and finally climbed up onto the big black stallion she'd chosen. She stood up straight and looked very regal for a moment, with her long blonde hair falling down her back, then she turned and made a face at one of the other Gryffindors her age.

"Everyone ready?" Slytherin called. Some students nodded assent, the others just stared blankly. The sun was just beginning to rise, and Bernhard found himself contemplating the purpose for leaving the grounds so early.

Slytherin leaned back on his reigns, and his horse leaned back along with him, unfolding her huge brown wings and gently lifting herself into the air. The other pegasus, apparently trained to trail her, followed suit. Bernhard's was one of the last to lift off, and he felt fear flood his brain again. He didn't dare look at the ground for fear that he would lean over too far and fall; instead, he focused on the point directly in front of him, which was Helena's pegasus' posterior.

Malcolm and Lucina rode their horses in silence. Since they had come back from summer holidays, they didn't have much to say to each other, which Malcolm found unnerving but Lucina thought was a refreshing change of page. Malcolm, despite his best efforts, was rather boorish, and though he was very bright he lacked imagination. Then, many people might say that about Lucina if they didn't know her.

Next to Malcolm, an eager little second-year Slytherin boy was chattering on about him home life. At least, that's what Malcolm thought he was talking about; his Cornish accent was too thick to understand more than two or three words in a sentence. At one point, he caught the words "goat milk soap."

And Lucina still wasn't talking to him. For three years they were inseparable, secretly studying all kinds of experimental magics from other parts of the world--Malcolm's family was fairly influential even in the Muggle world and was able to find whole books on ancient alchemy.

Professor Kharuma was leading them west into the grassy hills of western Strathclyde. There were a lot of sheep running around. Yes, Malcolm was truly impressed by the ability of this part of the world to be uncivilized. At one point they passed a group of Muggles picking through a field of barley. Malcolm had to restrain himself from hexing their field to attract locusts, not because Prof. Kharuma wouldn't appreciate it but because Lucina would tell him it was "unworthy" of him.

Off in the distance, Malcolm could hear a subdued moaning, like a ghost spreading its gloom across the land. Listening intently, he scanned the horizon for the source.

The other students had noticed it, too. "What do you suppose that is?" a little second-year asked no one in particular. "It sounds like a demon!"

"That was the point," replied Lucina. "The druids years ago made giant harps and placed them across the moors of Erin and into the highlands of Alba and the other Pict lands to scare off the Romans. It backfired, though, and the Scot and Pict muggles thought they were demons or banshees.

"Then they found the harps and tried to pull them down. Only a few still survive after the Druids formed a campaign to cast Muggle-repelling spells on the artifacts." Lucina said all this without looking away from the empty space before her.

"Why are you not in Ravenclaw?" Malcolm asked her sardonically.

Several hours passed before Prof. Slytherin reported that the site was just below, and he began to guide his dark mount to descend slowly. Helena looked back toward Bernhard, who had a horrified look on his face.

"It's all right, Bernhard," Helena called to him. He glanced up to her, nodded, and closed his eyes. Luckily his pegasus seemed to simply follow the others, and in a few minutes everyone's feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Professor Slytherin ran a head-count, then dismissed everyone to their cabins. "You boys are to be in that hut," the professor said, pointing, "and the ladies will be in the cabin to my right."

All the boys complained. Their hut was a rather miserable-looking sod dome with a little crooked chimney sticking out of the middle, whereas the girls had a larger log cabin. Upon entry, the girls found that they had real, solid wood floors unlike the boys, and they each had their own little space in the cabin when the boys had tiny bunks.

It was a little past noon and Helena was growing rather hungry. She wandered outside to where Prof. Slytherin could be found, seated sedately on a log smoking a pipe.

"Professor," Helena began plainly, "we students are wondering what we'll be doing about our midday meal."

Slytherin looked at the girl and said, "We'll get there when everyone is settled. If you are so very hurried, you can help everyone gather quickly."

"Yes, sir," se replied quickly, turning away.

She is going to be Gryffindor's prefect, Slytherin thought to himself. She's like his own little prodigy. And clearly I could choose none other than Miss Snape--she is such a fussy girl she wouldn't stand anyone else. But what about Helga and Ravenclaw? No student of the prop--

"P-professor," Bernhard Baddock interrupted Salazar's thoughts. Slytherin leered up to the ill-looking boy and said, "Yes, Mr. Baddock?"

"Sir, is--is there a, uhm, a stream, maybe, anywhere near here?" The boy looked shaken, probably from the ride over to this place.

"Yes, of course, just down that hill there is a spring about thirty of fourty cubits away," Slytherin replied. Bernhard nodded his thanks and dashed off very unceremoniously.

"We have here a stempler mushroom. Does anyone know another name for these?"

Lucina Snape's hand shot into the air.

Professor Nanak Kharuma. "Does anyone know other that Miss Snape? No? Go ahead, Miss Snape."

"Another, more commonly-used name for the stempler mushroom is 'sourjuice mushroom,' due to the strange, sticky secretion it has which can be used to remove warts or as a taste reducer in some of the more revolting oral poisons."

"Well, Miss Snape," Prof. Kharuma commented, "maybe you should teach the lessons."

Lucina's eyes sparkled at the idea. "That would be silly, Professor," she replied, a smile playing on her lips for the first time in anyone's memory.

Nanak smiled weakly. "Well now, does anyone know how to properly prepare a sourjuice mushroom for the consumption of humans?"

The small group again was silent, except for the sound of Lucina Snape's arm swooshing through the air. The girl was either very eager to prove herself superior, or to irritate the skin off everyone within eighty cubits of her location.

After the lesson, about noon, Prof. Kharuma sent some of the older girls to get a trunk from his little personal cabin containing the group's provisions. He also sent a small group of the older boys out to bring lots of water to the center area from a little well she'd had dug weeks beforehand.

Things were moving pretty smoothly. Malcolm Malfoy, the one person he was most concerned about, hadn't done anything vile to any of the other students. Fortunate for Kharuma; he had things to accomplish which needed to be taken care-of while they were out here; he didn't have time to take any troublemakers back to the school.

One by one the tired students wandered into the general area where Slytherin was seated. He tried to talk quietly with some of them, although he seemed to scare off some of the younger students, particularly those not in his own house. Perhaps I should try to disguise my dislike for most of them, he thought, it seems they're all afraid to look at me.

William Beck was standing nearby, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest. Salazar had learned that this was a dangerous stance for the boy to take; he was probably planning another evil attack on the more unstable students. Taking his pipe into his hand Salazar stood and approached the boy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beck," he spoke briefly. "I see your pegasus didn't throw you like she did last year."

"Yeah! She must've forgotten me," replied Will, grinning. "I still have the scars."

"And I the precious memory."

Will sniggered. Although the boy could be tricky, he never took anything personally. "So why are you, a respectable professor, mingling with the likes of me?"

"We need to keep an eye on the local criminal element," Salazar replied quickly.

Will smiled wider and glanced past Slytherin's arm. "It seems your audience has arrived," he said.

Slytherin turned to see the entire pack of students dozing on rocks near his own log lay, although none were brave enough to claim it from him. Salazar sighed and turned, taking a little puff from his pipe. He could tell already that it would be a long weekend.

Professor Slytherin took his seat again and said sharply, "Attention, students."

Some jumped awake; others were already alert, many of whom were slowly sipping water from their leather pouches. Bernhard was chugging his, so Slytherin snapped, "Slow down, Baddock, you'll make yourself sick."

"Too late, sir," Will chuckled, taking a seat beside Eve MacMarrow.

Slytherin ignored the boy. "I have an assignment for all of you this evening. Professor Gryffindor has suggested that we," he took a deep breath, "...conduct a scavenger hunt."

There was a collective moan in the crowd of students. "A scavenger hunt," Will cried, "like little Teutonic children looking for their Christmas pickle!"

The crowd quieted to stare at Will, not knowing what on Earth he was talking about, or feeling insulted because he'd slighted a cherished family tradition. "No, just me?" Will said more quietly. "Never mind, then."

"Please be quiet, Mr. Beck," Slytherin said sharply, pulling a small leather pouch from a concealed pocket inside his cloak. "So as to keep a level playing field, I have taken the liberty of dividing you into. Group one will include Bernhard Baddock, Oliver Spalding and Laura Weasley; group two will include..."

Bernhard looked around, trying to identify his team mates. Oliver Spalding was one of the younger Ravenclaw boys. He had short, sandy hair and a big nose and was sitting nervously next to a second-year girl.

Laura Weasley was a girl he'd noticed earlier. She was tall for her age, almost as tall as Bernhard himself, and had long curly blonde hair to her waist, although after a long time flying around in the wind her hair was rather knotted. Bernhard would have told her but she was rather intimidating. She never seemed to talk to anyone out of her house, which was fine because Bernhard rarely spoke to anyone at all, but there was something about her which made her seem somewhat pretentious.

Prof. Slytherin stood again before the students. "Now everyone, I'll give the oldest member of your team the list of goods and creatures you must find, and they will be the leader of your group. This game will last the rest of the trip, and the team which finds the most animals wins. And there is one last thing," he added. "I have arranged with Professor Fudge to give the first team to return with the items fifty extra points in Bestiary, the second team thirty and the third ten."

There was a collective sigh among the students. Will's joy lasted for just a moment, until he remembered who would be the oldest member of his team; Jason Croft. That kid had it out for Will. Not that he was completely undeserving, but the occasional embarrassment was hardly worth frequent, vehement threats of serious bodily harm! "You're dead, Beck," was one of the things he heard routinely in the morning over his eggs and porridge. And now Jason would be heading up his team working for fifty extra points in Will's worst subject... it was a blessing and a curse.

"Hey Beck!" Jason called Will over to him, with a stupidly vindictive look on his wide face. "I'm your team captain! What'd'ya think of that?"

Will frowned. "More than you ever will," he replied, trying to cloak the disgust in his voice. It obviously didn't work, because Jason stumbled over to Will threateningly.

"Whart's that supposed to mean, eh?" The larger boy grabbed Will's collar and held him upright, and the blood started to rush to Will's head.

The idiot might actually try something, he thought gravely. He still looked composedly into Jason's eyes, trying to look as menacing as possible to the boy who was over twice his size. "Nothing at all," said Will.

Jason grinned at Will, his crooked yellowing teeth right in his face. "I know what we should do. We should go start that hunt."