Charles Chandler and the Staff of Fury

Chapter 5

David Waters hated being a guard. He wasn't hired to be a guard. He was hired twenty years ago to setup displays and give tours. The Museum Board had recently decided that it needed to save money and still protect its interests. So it forced the tour guides to play guard for one week a month.

Tonight was particularly bad because it was rainy and unseasonably cold. Waters didn't want to wander too far from a nice hot pot of tea, but the guardhouse had other ideas. Apparently, the Museum Board didn't trust the guards to do rounds, so the guardhouse furniture tossed him out into the cold rain every hour as a reminder to go do his rounds.

"Bloody building," Waters grumbled as he picked up his wand up off the ground.

He had been forced to play guard for six months, and this was his second week in a row because old McCardell had come down with a bad case of the flu. Waters knew McCardell couldn't help the fact that he fell ill, so he grumped at his misfortune and started around the building.

Another thing that grated on Waters was that barely anyone came to the Museum of Strange and Wondrous Items anymore. In fact, he wondered why they even bothered to open some days.

"Lumos," Waters said, setting his wand alight. He trudged around the building. He barely glanced left or right. He knew that the guardhouse would let him back in if he completed a circuit of the museum.

He wouldn't have noticed anything if he hadn't tripped into a large depression in the ground.

Water scrambled to his feet quickly and shined the light onto the spot where he tripped. There he saw a footprint that was almost three times the size of his own foot. Waters swallowed hard and cast his light all around. He saw that the footprints moved around the building, towards the back.

Waters took a deep steadying breath. He couldn't go back to the guardhouse because it wouldn't let him inside. He moved slowly towards the museum with his wand outstretched.

"I should have heard something that big moving around this building," Waters thought nervously.

A few slow steps later, Waters heard a loud roar and a crash. Then he heard a second crash and the sound of splintering wood. There was only one wooden door in the whole museum. Waters ran around to the entrance. Wet footprints headed up the small staircase towards the ruined front door.

Waters tightened his grip on his wand as he moved into the darkened museum. He noticed the direction that the footprints were headed as they moved into the museum. Waters had a sudden flash of common sense. He dashed to the wall and hit the button alerting the nearby Magical Law Enforcement Squad. After he hit the button, he heard a smash and the tinkling sound of broken glass.

He rushed to the sound, confident that the MLE Hit Wizards would show up quickly. When he reached the source of the noise, he saw a massive, green beast holding a rough hewn club. At its feet lay a discarded branch. It hadn't noticed Waters rush into the room, so he decided to hide behind a display case of magical masks.

The green beast turned, and Waters recognized it as a forest troll. It was only 12 feet tall, which made it a small forest troll. An eerie, red light emanated from its eyes.

From out in the hall, there came a quiet shuffling of feet. Waters turned and saw six Hit Wizards creeping into the room. The lead wizard shouted, "NOW!!!" and the other five wizards yelled "Stupefy!" Apparently the troll had also heard their approach because it moved faster than Waters would have believed possible.

The troll leapt into the air, dodging the first five red bolts. The leader waited a split second to see which way the troll would move. After the troll jumped, he fired his own red bolt at the troll.

In mid-jump, the troll twisted to face the lead wizard and snarled at him. The club swung around, deflecting the bolt back at the wizard. The wizard wasn't as quick as the troll and was struck by the bolt. The blast flung the wizard across the room and he slid into the mask display case.

The other Hit Wizards gaped for half a second at what they saw. They quickly recovered from their shock and sprang into action. One of them Disapparated, while the other four maneuvered to encircle the troll.

The troll let out an ear-splitting roar and charged the nearest Hit Wizard. With a huge swing, the troll hit the wizard in the chest and swept him up against the wall. The Hit Wizard slid down the wall and lay motionless. Waters could hear ragged breathing from his hiding spot.

The remaining three wizards began to look around very apprehensively. Two were down, and the third had gone for help. The troll took full advantage of their hesitation.

The troll charged again and grabbed the nearest wizard. Lifting the wizard over its head, the troll then flung him at the two standing wizards. Waters winced as he saw all three wizards land in a painful looking heap. The thrown wizard groaned loudly.

The troll glared at the fallen wizards menacingly and approached them with its club raised. Waters screwed up his courage, leapt out from behind the mask display, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

But Waters missed...

The troll rounded on Waters, growled, and started to advance on him. Waters turned and ran from the troll. He stared wild-eyed over his shoulder and saw the troll give a full-throated roar. Waters ducked his head and sprinted through the front door.

Waters continued to run as fast as he could and dashed into the forest. As soon as he got about twenty yards into the forest, he heard massive crashes from behind him. Waters's lungs burned, but his fear kept him running.

After ten minutes of running, Waters arrived at a clearing. He dashed to the opposite side and slid down behind a particularly large tree, gasping for breath. About a minute later, he heard a nearby crash as the troll entered the clearing. Waters held his breath, hoping that the troll couldn't find him. There was a loud snuffling from the clearing, and Waters heard the troll pass by the tree he was hiding behind. When the troll didn't stop, Waters slowly began to breathe again. He stood up and turned to walk off...and ran right into the troll. Waters gasped and tried to bring his wand up, but he wasn't fast enough.

The troll grabbed Waters by the neck and with a roar, flung him into the clearing. Waters skidded and rolled violently. When he finally stopped, he got shakily to his feet. As soon as he was on his feet, Waters saw the troll step out from behind the tree and brandish its club menacingly. It began to stalk towards Waters. After five steps, it broke into a run and charged Waters, club poised to strike.

Waters whipped his wand around and yelled, "Impedimenta!" He hit the troll full in the front with the spell, and the troll slowed in its charge. Waters turned to run back towards the museum.

"Maybe those Hit Wizards are--," but his thoughts were interrupted as a massive smash caught him in the side and flung him into a tree. Waters crumpled to the ground; each breath he drew brought massive pains in his chest. His ribs felt like they were crushed. He rolled onto his back with a groan and was greeted with the last sight he would ever see: a club rushing downward. He tried to scream, but only a weak groan escaped his lips.

***

The sixth Hit Wizard returned five minutes later with two dozen more Hit Wizards. Also with him was the head of the department and two trained medi-wizards. The original wizard pointed into the museum. Five Hit Wizards rushed in, as did the medi-wizards. The remaining wizards spread out around the museum to look for any paths or trails.

Inside the museum, the medi-wizards were reviving the fallen Hit Wizards. The five that had just rushed in were methodically searching the room. They paid particular attention to the shattered glass case.

"There was another wizard in the museum. I think he's the one who raised the original alarm," one of the revived wizards said.

One of the searching Hit Wizards paused over a glint of polished bronze. He bent down, picked it up, and shook off the glass. It was a plaque. After reading the plaque, the Hit Wizard swore loudly.

"What? What is it?" the newly-revived lead wizard asked. After seeing the plaque, he also began muttering curses. "Where is the department head?" he asked quickly.

The squad leader dashed form the museum, asking each wizard he passed, "Where is he?" They all seemed to know who he was talking about and pointed into the forest. The squad leader ran quickly through the forest, noticing all of the broken trees. The more broken trees he saw, the faster he ran.

Finally he came to a clearing and spotted the head of the Hit Wizards. He approached quickly and tapped the head of department on the shoulder. The department head turned slowly looking extremely tense.

"Glad to see you're okay, my boy," the head Hit Wizard started. "Tell me you found something."

"I've found what the beast took," the squad leader answered, holding out the plaque. "But I don't know where it has gone."

The department head took the plaque and read it. He sighed, sadly, "It's no wonder you and your men couldn't stop that thing. I wish everyone had been as lucky as you..."

The squad leader looked around and saw a sheet-covered body laid out near a tree. He felt a sharp pang as though he had just been punched in the stomach. He turned to the department head and looked him in the eye.

"Sir, I want my team in charge of finding this beast. I owe it to this man. If not for him, we would all be dead," the squad leader said determinedly.

"I understand. But you should know that troll was not alone."

"Someone was helping that thing?"

"Few trolls are smart enough to read, and from what I understand, the beast broke into only one case. There are Alarm charms all over this museum, but none of them have been triggered. I think someone...some witch or wizard, is helping or controlling that creature. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to speak to the Museum Board." He turned away to a group of witches and wizards; some still in their nightclothes.

The squad leader looked stunned. What witch or wizard would help a troll do this? Why would they do this? He looked down at the plaque he was holding, and felt his stomach lurch as he read: "The Staff of Fury."

***

Charles's next conscious experience was to feel a rough tongue licking his face. Charles opened his eyes and saw Kieran standing over him, forcing him to get up. Charles grabbed Kieran, placed him on the floor, and swung his feet out of bed. Looking around, he noticed that Matthew had also gotten up. Charles checked the watch his father had given him and decided to get dressed.

Choosing his clothes was quite simple. They had already been laid out for him. The day outside looked pleasant, so Charles dressed quickly. He allowed himself a moment of vanity and looked into the mirror. Charles chuckled when he saw his reflection. He thought he looked so silly with his hat on. Otherwise, the outfit was okay. Black robes, white shirt, blue and bronze tie, and black shoes were all put out for everyone.

"You might want to comb your hair," the mirror told him. Charles stepped back in shock.

"Er, okay..." Charles replied, a little taken aback.

Not willing to wait, Charles grabbed his bag and headed up to the common room. As he emerged, he noticed Cecil staring into the fire. He was holding a letter in one hand and he looked very sad.

Charles stopped behind Cecil and asked, "Are you okay? You look like someone died."

Cecil turned slowly and looked at Charles. He smiled wanly, but his eyes still looked sad. He seemed to almost say something, but changed his mind.

"Just go to breakfast, Charles," Cecil said quietly. "I'll probably tell you about it later."

Charles reluctantly headed towards the bookcase. There had to be something he could do to help, and he wanted to at least try. Cecil seemed like a nice person to him.

As soon as he left the square room, Charles tried to remember exactly how he got here last might. It seemed that in a couple of places, walls had appeared where there was a door the previous day. Eventually, Charles wound his way back to the Great Hall. He opened the door and saw it was half full of students.

The tables were lined with food. Charles saw Matthew and sat down next to him. Matthew waved because his mouth was full of sausage. Charles grinned, waved back, and began to help himself to some eggs and sausage. Charles saw a pitcher and poured himself a glass full of orange liquid. After a quick sip to check the taste, Charles drained the glass of pumpkin juice and started on his sausage.

Halfway through his sausage, Charles was joined by Helena, Fiona, and Swahti. He swallowed his mouthful of food and greeted all of the girls. Pretty soon all of the first years had shown up.

"Alright there, boys?" Charles heard a squeaky voice behind him. He turned and saw a small wizard with a short white beard behind him. "I am Professor Flitwick, and I think I had better give you your class schedules so you can know where to go," he explained with a twinkle in his eyes.

Professor Flitwick passed out all of their schedules, and said, "See you in 30 minutes," as he walked down the table passing out the schedules to all of the other students. Charles looked down the row after the diminutive professor, and turned to the third year next to him.

"What does he teach, and why is he passing out our schedules?" Charles asked the older student.

"Oh, Flitwick teaches Charms, and he's passing out the schedules because he's the head of Ravenclaw house," the third year replied.

Overhead, Charles heard some screeching. He looked up and saw hundreds of owls fly in to the Great Hall. "Ah, good. The mail's here!" Stephen said as he looked up too.

The owls overhead were searching for their addressee and would dive towards them when they found them. An owl fluttered down in front of Stephen, who looked a little sour at this. Charles saw Janus swoop down towards him and stop. Janus stood patiently as Charles detached the letter that was tied around his leg. Janus grabbed some sausage and then took off again.

Charles read the front of the envelope. "Looks like Mum sent me a letter," Charles said.

"Yeah, me too," Stephen countered. "I bet I know what it says." Stephen had also taken the letter off of the owl in front of him and was starting to open it.

Charles followed suit and tore open the envelope. Three different types of paper fell out. There was one letter that was written on parchment, there was another that was typed up on computer paper, and the third was a handwritten letter on notebook paper. Charles decided to read the letters tonight and turned to Stephen. Stephen had a resigned look on his face and was shaking his head.

"Are you going to tell me what's in the letter?" Charles asked, noticing his friend's look.

"No."

So for the next fifteen minutes, Charles and the rest of the first years sat around and chatted to each other. Then as a group they all started to go to class. Charles approached Matthew and asked him, "Do you know where we are going?"

Matthew stopped and looked at Charles. "Well, not really. The prefect did point out where we needed to go," he replied.

Charles nodded, grabbed his bag, and followed the rest of the group. They headed out and back the way the came to get to the Great Hall. Soon, they came to the Charms corridor and headed down to the classrooms.

Professor Flitwick was standing on a pile of books on his desk. "Come in, come in. Have a seat," he told the class and gestured towards the desks. As soon as the class was seated, Flitwick called the roll. When he got to Stephen's name, he stopped, smiled at him and said, "Ah...Mr. James, I remember teaching your father." Flitwick's expression saddened slightly. "A braver man there never was."

Stephen lowered his head. Charles looked at him quickly and saw a look of deep sorrow on his face. Stephen straightened up, and his face was impassive again.

When Flitwick finished calling the roll, he put it aside and turned to the class. "Charms," he began, "are the most common magic used in the wizarding world. A charm is always being used somewhere. As a matter of fact, curses are a form of charm themselves. Albeit, curses are typically less beneficial than a charm is," he added with a smile.

"Now charms are possibly both the easiest and most difficult type of magic to use. The Levitation charm is one of the simplest to learn, while the Fidelius charm is more complex than almost any other spell. Now in a few weeks you will all learn how to do this:" as soon as he said that he waved his wand and sent Matthew's, Charles's, and Justin's hats zooming around the room. After a couple of laps, the hats dropped in front of their respective owner.

Charles put his hat back on his head and looked at Flitwick attentively. After his demonstration, Flitwick had them taking notes on wand movements. Charles had no idea that so much precision was needed for spellcasting.

When Professor Flitwick had finished lecturing, he had them all take out their wands and start practicing the proper movements. Charles felt a little foolish waving his wand around, but he thought it must be good practice for later when he'd actually be casting spells. Helena, who was sitting just to Charles's left, got a little overexuberant and accidentally flung her wand out towards the middle of the classroom. When it hit the ground, blue sparks shot out of it with a loud bang. Professor Flitwick picked up the wand and handed it back to Helena.

"Now, now Miss Howard," Flitwick said with a grin, "no need to swish so violently. Nice easy motions...that's it."

As class ended, Flitwick gave them all a homework assignment. "I want you all to pick out a charm from the Standard Book of Spells and begin to learn how to cast it. In two or three weeks, I want you all to be able to cast one of them."

"Well, that was fun. What have we got next?" Charles asked Stephen as they walked from class.

Stephen pulled out his schedule and scanned it. "We have Defence against the Dark Arts. We should have some fun in that class."

The Ravenclaw first years walked along the halls chatting to each other. Then all of a sudden Fiona stopped dead.

"Does anyone really know where our next class is?" she asked.

The rest of the first years looked at each other then looked back at Fiona. All of them shook their heads.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," came a voice from behind Helena.

Charles jumped and saw that one of the portraits was addressing them. He knew the pictures could move, but he had no idea they could talk as well.

"Er...yes," Fiona answered, looking a little taken aback. She looked at the picture of what appeared to be a well-dressed Elizabethan era witch dressed in green. "We need to get to our Defence against the Dark Arts class. As this is our first day here, we have no idea how to get there."

"Hmm...important class, that one. Let me think," the witch in the portrait said, "All right, here is how you get to that class's corridor." She gave them clear and quick directions to the class.

The first years thanked the green-clad lady and hurried off towards the Defence against the Dark Arts corridor. Even with the helpful directions, the entire class barely made it to the classroom before the bell.

A young looking wizard named Quirrell taught this class. Professor Quirrell was quite interested in the subject but confessed early on that he had little practical experience.

"But worry not, this summer I'm going on a bit of a trip to gain some practical experience," Quirrell told them.

Quirrell then spent the rest of the class period regaling them with second hand stories of how one of his cousins defeated a vampire, or how his mother's uncle stopped a werewolf attack in some remote village. Charles found this all very interesting, but wondered how this would help defend him against the Dark Arts and its practitioners.

"This class was of particular importance during the reign of You-Know-Who, and I will go...yes, Mr. Chandler?" Quirrell said.

"I don't," Charles said.

"You don't what?" Quirrell asked, puzzled.

"I don't know who. Who is you know who?" Charles responded.

Justin stared at Charles with a look of almost contempt. Stephen hid a grin behind his hand. He apparently thought this was terribly funny. Helena and the other Muggle-borns sat up a bit in hopes that Professor Quirrell would answer the question. They wanted to know just as much as Charles did, they just didn't want to interrupt the teacher.

"Erm...You-Know-Who was a very powerful dark wizard. He was quite possibly the most powerful in hundreds of years. He did a lot of bad things ten or twenty years ago."

"Well, that's good, but what is You-Know-Who's name? Why call him that? It's almost as if you're scared to say his name," Charles said, getting frustrated.

Professor Quirrell started to look a little angry with Charles. "We do not speak his name, and that is it. If you want to find out You-Know-Who's name, then you should take it up with Professor Dumbledore," Quirrell said crossly.

Charles, refusing to take a hint, opened his mouth to retort, but he was immediately kicked on his right and left legs. He looked at Stephen, and Stephen gave him a warning look. Charles gave up and went silent.

Quirrell continued his lecture until the bell rang, signaling the end of class. As everyone got up, he called, "Mr. Chandler, may I speak with you, please?"

"Lunch is next, I'll wait for you in the corridor," Stephen whispered to him.

Charles approached Quirrell's desk and saw that the professor had a stern look on his face. "Mr. Chandler, I do not mind discussions in class as long as they pertain to the subject matter. I will not, however, tolerate speaking out of turn. The next time you have a question, you will raise your hand and wait to be called upon. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor."

With that, Quirrell dismissed Charles. Charles joined Stephen and Helena in the hall. They started walking to the Great Hall. Charles looked a little down as they walked.

"What's the matter?" Helena asked. "He didn't take any points?"

"No, I just think I made Professor Quirrell mad at me," Charles responded.

"I doubt it," Stephen responded with a smile. "I think you just threw off his rhythm for his opening day speech. I bet a lot of teachers have a planned speech, and you just happened to step all over his."

For lunch, there was a delicious beef stew. Charles sat down and ladled some into his bowl and ate it quickly. After he finished eating, Charles rooted around in his bag and grabbed his schedule.

"Hmm, looks like History of Magic is next," Charles said to no one in particular.

"Great, I fancied having a nap after lunch," Stephen said with a wry smile.

"What? Is it that boring?" Charles asked.

"I don't know, but I do know that I'm not a big fan of hearing about long dead wizards or when some law was passed."

"Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it," Helena said in a wise sounding voice. "I, personally, will be paying a lot of attention in this subject."

Charles checked his watch. "Well, since we have no clue where it is, I suggest we start walking now," he said to Stephen and Helena. They agreed and got up from the table and left the hall.

As they walked through the Entrance Hall, Charles spotted Fred and George Weasley talking to each other. They noticed him as well and waved. Charles motioned them over to see if they could help.

"Could you tell us the way to get to History of Magic?" Charles asked.

"Nap time already for the Ravenclaw first years?" Fred said with a grin. "You have such a treat ahead of you."

"Why do people keep saying that about this class?" Helena said sounding a little exasperated.

"Well, that subject is taught by the most boring professor Hogwarts has ever had. Honestly, I think he bored himself to death and didn't even notice," George answered.

"What? Our teacher is dead?" Charles asked confusedly.

"Yes, Professor Binns is a ghost," Fred replied.

"Hogwarts has ghosts?" Charles asked, becoming even more confused.

"Not real observant, are you?" Fred said, smiling broadly. "Didn't you notice them at the feast last night?"

"Well now that I know there are some here, I would love to see a ghost," Charles said. "Oh yeah, you never really answered my question."

"No, we didn't," the twins said in unison. And then they immediately launched into two different ways to get to the classroom.

"Okay, first you go down this hallway," Fred started pointing down the nearest corridor. "Then you go up the stairway at the far end of the hall. Go left around the classro-"

"Don't be daft, Fred," George broke in, "They need to go that way, and then go past the kitchens, and make a right at-"

Fred pushed George back as he tried to continue. George pushed back, and the twins began grappling, each telling their own versions of the directions. Each successive direction became more ludicrous. At one point, Fred was directing him to push a suit of armor to open a secret passage, while George had him in a headlock, telling them which books in the library they should pull so they could open another secret door there.

Charles's smile broadened as he heard the twins go on and on. After a couple of minutes, when they finally paused to take a deep breath, Charles cut in, "Let me rephrase my question. What is the quickest way to the History of Magic classroom?"

Fred and George let go of each other and put on identical fake pouts that made Helena giggle. "Well, if you want to do it the easy way..." Fred said.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the doors to the Great Hall flung open and students rushed out holding their noses and gagging. What followed the fleeing students was an awful smell like a dirty bathroom. Fred and George's already broad smiles widened even more.

"How about you just follow us and we'll show you the way?" George offered quickly.

Stephen couldn't help smiling at Fred and George's antics. "Thanks, you two made this class worth going to."

Charles, Stephen, and Helena followed Fred and George as they dashed up the stairs. They stopped in front of the classroom. Fred and George waved to them as they continued to dash down the hall. Charles, Stephen and Helena stood by the door, waved to Fred and George and waited. Eventually the rest of the first years showed up, and they entered the classroom. As soon as they were all seated, a silvery form glided through the chalkboard. Charles gaped at the ghost as it placed a stack of notes it was carrying on the professor's desk in the front of the room.

"Good afternoon, class," the ghost said in a dry, wheezy voice. "My name is Professor Binns, and this is History of Magic." And with that, Professor Binns launched into a frightfully dull lecture on the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards. Ten minutes into the talk, only Helena was still paying attention. She was scribbling furiously, apparently trying to copy down everything that Professor Binns said.

Finally, the class ended. Charles and Stephen were both glad to be out of there, but Helena held them up as she tried to talk to the professor. However, Professor Binns simply left the way he came in before Helena could reach him.

"Wasn't that the best class we've had so far?" Helena gushed, as they left the classroom.

"Yeah, I've never had a better nap," Stephen answered with a smirk. "Why didn't they replace him when he died?"

"Probably because there wasn't anyone who knew as much about the history of magic than Professor Binns," Charles answered absently.

Stephen grimaced, and said, "I didn't really want an answer, Charles. It was a rhetorical question."

"Are we done for today?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, all that's really left is to go to our dormitories and dinner later on," Helena answered.

"Let's follow them, then," Stephen said, pointing out a group of older Ravenclaws.

When they got back to their common room, Charles flopped down into the nearest chair. Right after he got settled, Kieran tried to leap into Charles's lap, but the chair was just too high for his small doggie legs. Charles peered down at Kieran, gave him a grin, and leaned down and placed Kieran in his lap. As soon as Kieran was situated comfortably, Charles searched in his bag, and pulled out the "Standard Book of Spells."

After thumbing through the book for several minutes, Charles stopped on a page that showed two wizards dueling. The picture had them blasting the wands out of each other's hands. Charles showed the picture to Stephen, who smiled slightly.

"That's always a good thing to learn, if you ever get attacked," Stephen said, and then threw Charles a fake pout. "I wanted to do that one..."

Charles grinned at Steven and said, "Okay, fine you take it. I'll just find another spell; this book has a few in it."

After a little more searching, Charles saw another picture with a witch conjuring water from her wand and putting out a fire. Charles showed this to Stephen again, who gave a larger grin than before. He started chuckling as he sat up.

"Planning on lighting yourself on fire, are you?" Stephen said with a laugh.

"It's always possible. Besides, I know a lot of things that could benefit from magically created water. Like me, if I ever get sent to the desert or something."

The rest of the evening passed fairly uneventfully. The three of them simply sat around and talked about what spells they planned on learning. The spellbook helped them find some interesting spells. They talked for so long that they nearly missed dinner.

After rushing to grab dinner, they spent a leisurely time eating and chatting. They sat around so long that Professor Flitwick eventually came up to them and shooed them back to the common room. They got up and began to stroll back towards the dormitory.

Right after Stephen walked through the open bookcase, he stopped short and clapped a hand to his forehead. He darted towards his bag and dug around inside. After a couple of seconds he straightened with his schedule in hand. He scanned down the parchment and then swore loudly.

Charles looked shocked. He didn't know eleven-year olds used that kind of language. He recovered enough to ask, "What's wrong?"

Stephen stuffed his schedule back into his back, grabbed Charles and Helena's bags, and stuffed them into their hands. He then pulled them towards the entryway.

"We have our Astronomy class in five minutes! We've forgotten about it, and now we need to hurry!" Stephen said.

"Well...this is going to be bad," Charles replied. "This may be a stupid question, but do you know where we're going?"

"No, but it has to be in a tower, right?"

So the three of them rushed to where the tallest tower in Hogwarts was located. They ran up the stairs, and burst through the door. They all stopped, breathing heavily, and sat down in the nearest desks.

A young-looking witch, certainly the youngest teacher they'd seen, surveyed them, with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile. "Well, I see Mr. Chandler, Mr. James, and Miss Howard have decided to join us," she said still smiling. "Please, get out your books and do try to be on time next week."

It turned out that they weren't too late. The professor, Sinistra, had just started describing what she expected of them this year. Charles sat there and started to notice that Professor Sinistra was a very pretty witch.

"Mr. Chandler, could you tell me another name for the constellation Ursa Major?" Professor Sinistra asked Charles.

Charles turned bright red, and stammered, "Er...um...the L-l-little Dipper. Wait...Big, the Big Dipper."

Professor Sinistra smiled again, "Very good, now everyone move to a telescope and we will begin learning how to locate the constellations, their names, and how they came to have their names."

The class spent the next two hours staring into the sky. Professor Sinistra lectured on how certain types of magic are influenced by the moon, the planets, and by constellation positions. They didn't get out of Astronomy until after midnight.

The class returned to the dormitories as a group. They seemed to be way too sleepy to talk about anything. Charles felt like he would pass out as soon as he reached his bed.

After they entered the common room, Helena immediately started combing the shelves. Charles and Stephen turned and looked at her. After a few minutes, she grabbed what seemed to be a random book and turned to go into the dormitory area.

"What in the world were you doing?" Stephen asked.

"Getting a book to read," she answered. "I can't sleep unless I'm reading."

Charles raised an eyebrow at this statement. "Wouldn't the other girls complain about the light?"

"Oh no, I don't think so. At least they didn't last night. I learned the Lumos spell, and I read under my blankets. None of the others seemed to care that much. I'm sure they'll tell me if it does start to bother them," Helena answered.

After they went down the stairs, Charles and Stephen said good night to Helena. When the two of them opened the door to the dormitory, they were greeted by a glare from Justin. The other boys apparently had gone right to sleep, but it seemed like Justin had stayed simply to shoot them nasty looks.

Charles rolled his eyes, and climbed into bed. He had better things to do then worry about what Justin thought of him...like sleep. As he closed his eyes, he felt a thump on his legs. Charles opened one eye and saw Kieran curling up to go to sleep. Charles quickly dozed off.

***

Charles's week continued much as the first day had. Herbology was rather fun, and Professor Sprout introduced them to growing some of their own potion ingredients. Charles particular enjoyed simply growing things.

Transfiguration was probably the most interesting class Charles was taking. Professor McGonagall warned them that this class was potentially one of the most dangerous classes they would take while at Hogwarts. Then she turned her desk into a cat and back.

Probably the worst class for Charles, and maybe the entire first year, was Potions. They shared the class with the first years from Hufflepuff house. They two groups of students chatted happily amongst each other for a few minutes...and then Snape arrived and promptly scared the class into silence.

"When I enter this classroom," Snape said in a low hiss, "I want you to be seated and silent. You will speak only when called upon. Any talking out of turn will be severely punished."

Snape lectured to the class for a few minutes and then set them to creating a simple potion for curing boils. He swept around the room, sneering at everyone. He paused by Charles's cauldron, looked at the brewing potion in the cauldron, and frowned at Charles.

"I see," Snape began, "that you are just as poor of a potion-brewer as your mother."

Charles glared at Snape and thought nasty thoughts about him. Unfortunately, he failed to pay attention to what he was doing and knocked extra porcupine quills into the cauldron. The mixture turned an angry red color and began to boil furiously.

Snape quickly pulled out his wand, and gave it a deft wave. The cauldron's contents settled and turned clear. Snape turned back to Charles and growled, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for your inattentiveness, Chandler. If that were another potion you could have done severe damage to this classroom."

Charles turned back to his cauldron and seethed. He wouldn't have made that mistake if Snape hadn't been bothering him. Rather than start the potion over again, Charles joined Stephen and watched him as he brewed the potion.

After class, Charles was still fuming. "How can that...that...man hold a grudge for so long?" Charles raged.

"He has a grudge against you? He just met you," Stephen replied. "I mean, sure it looks like he doesn't like you, but you haven't done anything to him...have you?"

"Well, no, I haven't done anything, but I think my mother did," Charles answered.

"What'd she do?" Helena asked.

A grin spread across Charles's face as he recalled the story. As he finished telling them the story, Helena was giggling uncontrollably and Stephen was crying from laughing so hard.

When they returned to their common room, Charles fell into the nearest chair and thought back over the last week. Charles thrust his hands into his pockets and felt a piece of parchment. Curious, he pulled out an envelope, and then realized he hadn't read the letter his mother had sent yesterday. He opened the letter, and read:

Dear Charles,

I hope you had a good first day at school. Your father and I want you to know that we are very proud of you. I know it is hard to meet new people, but the friends you make here will be with you for the rest of your life. Write back to us, and tell us how you first week went.

Love,

M--

P.S. Renard wants to know when you are coming home.

After Charles finished reading, he immediately pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write furiously. He wrote about the train ride, meeting Stephen and Helena, the Sorting, and finally he described his classes. By the time he finally stopped writing, he had written almost a roll of parchment about his first week. He rolled up the parchment and strode towards the exit.

"Charles, where are you going?" Helena called to him. She quickly put down her homework, and stood up. Stephen looked up quickly, but remained lounged in his chair.

"Just going to post a letter. I'll be back in a minute. I just need to remember how to get there," Charles replied.

"I believe the Owlery is in one of the non-Astronomy towers," Stephen spoke up with a grin. "And we'll see you at dinner."

Charles strode towards the Great Hall. It always helped to have a consistent starting point before you get lost. Charles quickly reasoned out where he should go. He hurried towards the tower he believed the Owlery was in, and dashed up the stairs. After a few flights, Charles began to feel that walking quickly up the stairs would be better, and continued moving. Eventually he came to a door with a lot of hooting and screeching coming from behind it. He opened the door and moved towards the nearest owl. He tied the note to its foot, like he saw with Janus. He then stepped back and looked at the owl.

"Now what do I do?" Charles murmured to himself. "Do I need to tell you where to go?"

The owl cocked its head in reply. "Um...okay, take the letter to my Mum. Need more? Okay, she lives in a small Muggle town just to the north of London."

As soon as the directions escaped Charles's lips, the owl took off. It sped out of the nearest window. Charles watched the owl fly south until it was out of sight. He then walked back down to the Entrance Hall and moved into the Great Hall. He stepped to the Ravenclaw table, and sat down next to Cecil.

Charles glanced at Cecil, and noticed he was red-eyed and distant. Cecil had a plate full of food, and was poking it with a fork.

"Cecil, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," Cecil replied. "I wish people would stop asking me that."

Charles frowned at Cecil and answered, "I'm sure they'd stop asking if you told them what was wrong."

Cecil sighed heavily, and gave Charles a bleary eyed stare.

"My father is dead."