The One Who You Fear

Chapter 3: A Class Act

"Uh, Jack, you might want to muffle up a little bit," Neville suggested as he looked down at Jack's sandaled feet. "It's snowing."

Jack looked out the window, and indeed it was. "I will be fine." He put his straw hat and walked outside.

"At least put on a scarf!" Neville yelled after him. "If my gran saw you like this, she . . . "

Harry shook his head as he wrapped up in his scarf. "Showoff."

Jack got to the edge of the forest first where he saw the enormous man with a cow carcass over his shoulder. "You must be Hagrid. It is an honor to meet you."

Once again as he bowed, he was interrupted as Hagrid seized his hand and shook it vigorously. "Right back at yeh. Yeh must be Jack Samson, the new student."

"Well I--"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, at yer service. Dumbledore told me ter expect yeh, said yer special."

"Are you a member of the clan?"

"Clan? 'Fraid I'm not followin' yeh."

"In . . . the Highlands?"

"Oh, yeh think I'm a Scottie? Nah, not quite."

"I have a friend who is much like you who is from there."

"Well, uh, I reckon the Hagrid charm gets 'round. Anyway, yeh'll enjoy the lesson I wager. Ah, Harry! Good ter see yeh."

Harry and his friends and other students began to circle around Hagrid. Jack saw among them that boy who fell asleep at the Slytherin table. He still had a bit of oatmeal in his hair.

"We're working in here today!" Hagrid said loudly, nodding toward the forest. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."

That could be any creature, but it didn't matter to Jack. He thought a walk would be good for him, and that forest looked like an interesting place to walk. Hagrid led the group into the forest explaining that what he was to show them was rare and that he was the only one to properly train them in Britain. The tired boy mocked him, and it looked like for good reason. Hagrid evidently had a rough time lately.

They finally stopped at a place in the heart of the forest. The trees were so close together, Jack couldn't see anywhere above the canopy. There wasn't even any snow on the ground here. Hagrid dropped the cow on the ground and looked back at the class.

"Gather roun', gather roun'. Now, they'll be attracted to the smell o' the meat, but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway. They'll like ter know it's me." Hagrid threw his head back and made a loud shriek. The class was dead silent. Nothing happened for about a minute. Jack started to wonder if he should try making the cry too. He almost did when they started coming.

They were gigantic horses with no flesh. They had black coats that hung strangely on skeletons. Their heads were dragon-like, with white, pupil-less eyes staring onward. All the horses had huge, bat-like wings in their flanks. They looked foreboding. But the strangest thing was that Jack seemed to be one of a very few students that could see the mysterious horses. Most of the class was still looking around quizzically and muttering to themselves, as though they did not know the beasts were there.

"Now, put yer hands up, who can see 'em?" Hagrid asked.

So, it was expected that some people might not see the horses? Interesting. Jack put his hand up, as did a boy he did not recognize, Neville, and . . . Harry.

"Yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid nodded. "An' you too, Neville, eh? Even you Jack? Well, I reckon I'd expect that as well," Hagrid said in a condescending tone. Jack was about to ask what Hagrid meant when the tired boy spoke again.

"Excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

Hagrid pointed to the dead cow, which the beasts were now devouring. Several people gasped and cried out. Jack could understand why. It was unsettling enough watching horses eat flesh. It reminded him of the story of Diomedes' mares. Jack was sure it looked downright terrifying seeing something invisible eat it.

"What's doing it?" Parvati cried out. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," Hagrid answered. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows--?"

"But they're really, really unlucky! They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them." Jack couldn't help but agree with Parvati. How could such a creature bring about good luck?

"No, no, no," Hagrid answered with a laugh. "Tha's jus' superstition, that is. They aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful!" As he continued to speak, a couple of more thestrals came from the woods. One stopped before Jack and lowered its head. Hagrid stopped and laughed. "Jack, I think that 'un likes yeh!"

"Can I . . . touch it?" Jack asked.

"Go righ' ahead. That's why she is lowering her head ter yeh. Her name's Grane. She won' bite."

Jack ran his hand along her head. It felt smooth, not soft at all. It wasn't too bad.

"Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?"

Hermione raised her hand. Jack turned to her, anxious to hear the reason.

"The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death."

Jack quickly withdrew his hand from the beast. "Oh," he said to himself.

Just then, the forest grew somewhat colder, and Jack wasn't completely sure if it was completely due to the weather. A squat lady who looked much like a toad came out of nowhere. Standing next to her was a much taller man with pale, white skin and brilliantly red hair, slick down his head and a suave goatee. The woman was wearing a green cloak with a matching hat, and the man wore black from head to toe. Both of them carried clipboards. The woman cleared her throat. Hagrid looked around in confusion.

"Er, good morning, Mr. . . . Hay-grid," the man greeted after glancing at his clipboard. His British voice was smooth and charming. "I'm Governor and High Inquisitor Undertaker. I do believe you've already met my associate, Professor Umbridge?"

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid answered.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" the woman practically shouted. "Telling you that we would be inspecting your lesson?"

"For goodness sake, Dolores, he's not deaf," Undertaker muttered.

"Oh yeah!" Hagrid replied. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see--or, I dunno, can you? We're doin' thestrals today--"

"Aha," Undertaker nodded. "The foals of Diomede's mares and the steeds of the Valkarie, right? Magnificent beasts."

"You can see them?" the woman asked, who was already scribbling on her clipboard. "Who did you see die?"

"What? Oh, these are the ones that . . . Dolores, why did you have to bring this up? You know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did such horrible things to me."

Umbridge shook her head and addressed Hagrid again. "Are you aware that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as 'dangerous'?"

"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta you, if yeh really annoy 'em--"

Professor Umbridge scribbled furiously on her clipboard. "Violence?" Undertaker read off her evaluation. "Dolores, give this bloke some credit for crying out loud!"

"Maybe we should proceed with asking the students questions?" Umbridge suggested.

"All right, then."

Umbridge asked random students about the teacher, but Undertaker approached Jack. "You, evidently, can see these creatures."

"Yes," Jack answered coldly.

"Who did you see die?"

Jack just happened to be wondering about that. He had heard of destruction, and some of his friends on his travels had died, but when did he actually see someone die?

"The gates of Valhalla open to me! I am free! The curse has lifted!"

Jack remembered now. "A friend," he replied. As he spoke, Grane turned toward Undertaker and flared her nostrils. Jack tried to soothe her, but Grane still looked like she was bound to attack. Undertaker quickly changed subjects.

"I don't recall seeing you. Who are you?"

"I am called Jack."

"And when did you get here, young man?"

"Antaeus," Umbridge spoke up, "we are evaluating the course and the teacher, not the students."

"Very well, Dolores, dear," Undertaker said through gritted teeth. "I'll leave that to you later." He backed away from the thestral and smiled coolly at Hagrid. "All right, I think I have enough information. You'll receive your results in ten days." Umbridge repeated the same in that loud voice, complete with hand signals. Undertaker gave her an odd look, and they walked out.

Jack was just as glad that the lesson was over. He wanted to walk alone, but Lavender and Parvati caught him. "So, you really could see them?" Parvati said with shock in her voice.

"I said that I could," Jack replied.

"And one of them allowed you to pet it?" Lavender said.

"It did," Jack nodded.

"Jack, don't you know what this means?" Parvati said with a quiver in her voice. "It means you are going to die soon!"

"Why, only because I saw it?"

"Thestrals become readily obedient to those who will soon join death's realm!" Lavender explained. "They are preparing you to take you there!"

"What about the teacher?"

"Oh, with Hagrid it's only a matter of time before he dies," Parvati answered sarcastically.

"Tell me this. What can make a thestral desire to attack?"

"Well," Lavender said, "Professor Trelawney says they're part Fury, and they get really angry when they meet someone who saw death and brought it about by his own hands."

"You don't want to know about that," Parvati added.

Jack became quiet as he remembered Grane's behavior. She began acting this way when she saw Undertaker, but she was still in Jack's care. Did Undertaker live up to his name, or did Grane realize that Jack took a life? The tired boy and his friends singing something about a weasel king and Parvati and Lavender offering to do a divining for him interrupted his thoughts. "Thank you, but I must be going." He trudged through the snow to his next class

The directions on Jack's parchment simply said that Potions was held in "Dungeon." There was no mention of how to get there, but Jack figured that he had to go down. So he found the first staircase that descended and investigated every room he found in the cold dungeon. He finally found a room with a man waiting behind a desk.

"Is there something I can do for you?" the man asked icily.

"I am here for . . . " Jack his parchment, "Potions."

"Class does not start for another fifteen minutes."

"I thought I would be lost, so I left early." The man shook his head and started scribbling on a piece of parchment. "So . . . Professor Snape, may I come in?"

"Very well," Snape replied in a low tone.

Jack took a seat at the counter the furthest back. He did not want to draw attention to himself. He waited uncomfortably for several minutes. Students began to gradually file into the room as it got closer to time.

"Strong man!" Jack heard two familiar voices cry. The Weasley twins clapped him on his back and sat back with him.

"Fred, George," Jack nodded.

"So you're a seventh year with us?" Fred asked.

"I just got out of Care of Magical Creatures with your brother."

"With Ron?" George asked. "That is strange. Well, Dumbledore could do whatever he wants."

"Hey guys," said a young man taking his place by the twins on the other side.

"Oh, hey Lee! Hey, this is the guy we told you about," Fred said.

"Ah! Hi, I'm Lee Jordan."

"Pleasure," Jack said shaking his hand. "My name is Jack."

"So, did you really--"

"Silence, class!" Snape demanded. Everything got quiet, and everyone sat straight in his or her chair. Snape called the roll by last names only. "Samson. Samson!"

Fred punched Jack in his arm. "Oh yes. Here."

"Welcome back. You've cost five points from Gryffindor."

"Points?" Jack whispered to the twins.

"Oh, that's just for the house cup," George answered. "Don't worry about it. We lose points so much, it almost lost all meaning."

"Today," Snape announced, "we will be learning to make an enlargement potion."

"What do we need that for?" one student asked. "Engorgio does the job just as well."

"Five points from Hufflepuff for your presumptuousness, Garret. You may not always have use of your wand. If you pay attention, you maybe grateful someday."

Snape explained how to make the potion and set everyone to work. Jack listened to every word and watched the potion making with interest. But when Snape came around . . .

"Samson! Why aren't you working?"

Jack replied firmly, "Have you not spoken to Dumbledore? I am only here to observe."

"Then I am sure you would love to observe Gryffindor losing no less than twenty points for your idleness!"

"I do not intend that, sir. I just do not believe I can successfully make this potion because I do not--"

"Have a cauldron?" Fred interrupted. "That's alright. You can borrow mine. I'll work with Lee."

Snape must have been satisfied with this, because he stalked off.

Jack figured it probably wouldn't be too hard. It's just following directions anyway. He looked at the instructions on the blackboard, and his thoughts went back to a moment of his training. He couldn't remember where it was, but he was asked to make a stew for his master out of whatever he could find in the wild. His master took one spoonful when the stew was done and said, "For your first attempt, you have done well. However, let me teach you something. Whenever you make such a meal, respect the delicacy of the task. Too much or too little or any one ingredient could spoil the broth. Everything should be in perfect balance with one another. Such it should also be in life. Always remember, everything in moderation."

So, as Jack considered the ingredients, he made sure that he got them exactly right. He was so careful in weighing them and cutting them up. He took great pains to follow the instructions exactly. He was a little slower than the others were, but it was worth it when Snape came around again.

"I am hoping this is at least similar to the result desired," Jack said. He meant to scoop a portion with his spoon to show Snape, but his spoon was suddenly heavy. Using great strength, he finally managed to get the spoon out of the mess. The scoop was ten times larger than normal. "Oh. I suppose it is too potent then."

"No, that is about right," Snape reluctantly nodded. "You have just been stirring it for too long." Snape suddenly looked past Jack and said sternly, "Speaking of, Mr. Weasley!"

Lee gasped. "GEORGE, BURP THE CAULDRON!"

George, who had been working alone, was stirring absentmindedly while watching Snape's assessment. He did not notice a huge bubble growing over the surface of the potion. When George did notice, he panicked. Several students starting ducking under the counters, so Jack did the same. He heard a clink, a loud, hissing pop, a splattering sound, and a scream. "OW, MY EYE!"

Jack stood when he thought it was safe. George had his right eye shut, but with a squeal he covered his eye with his hand, then with both hands.

"You idiot!" Snape shouted. "Did you not listen to me when I said not to get the potion on any skin tissue? Of course not. You're a Weasley, and you don't have ears!"

"I know. Hospital wing for me," George replied. Shrieking about his swollen eye, he ran out of the room.

Jack looked at Snape coldly. "How dare you speak so disrespectfully to your student? Do you have no honor?"

Snape looked at him coldly. "I have my own honor, and if you know what is best for you, you will not challenge it."

"There are many things about this school that I do not know, but I will not stand for injustice," Jack answered firmly.

Luckily, the bell rang just then. Snape frowned. "I'll be watching you, Samson."

"Likewise," Jack answered before stalking away.

Fred joined him on the stairs. "You really don't want Snape on your case like that. He can get so nasty."

"Then it is up to me to stop him," Jack answered determined.

"You can't stop him. He's just like that. He's partial to the Slytherins, and he hates Gryffindor."

"Perhaps I can not, but I will try."

"Wow. You're either gutsy or you're stupid, or maybe you're a little bit of both."

Jack made his way back to the Great Hall. He sat at the Gryffindor table and put his head in his hands. Ron, Hermione, and Harry soon joined him. "So, how is it going?"

Jack sighed. "There is so much on my mind. I'm having trouble taking it all in."

"Really?" Hermione said surprised.

"Yeah, the first day is always the worst," Ron said.

The trio went on their own conversation, talking about things Jack didn't know about, like something called Quidditch. He didn't pay much attention. Suddenly, he noticed that same girl from earlier, the girl Harry called "Cho," still looking quizzically toward Jack. She mouthed something to Jack, but he could not tell what. He pointed to himself and mouthed back, "Me?"

"What are you doing Samson?" Harry asked.

Jack broke out of it. "Nothing."

"Oh, it looked like something to me."

"I mean nothing of your concern." Harry gave him a perturbed expression, and Jack felt ashamed. "I better go."

Jack knew the way to the Divination class would be hardest of all. As it happened, he ran into two familiar faces in the hall.

"Hey Jack," they shrilled in unison.

"Lavender, Parvati," Jack nodded.

"Where you heading?" Lavender asked.

"Divination. Do you happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, we're just going there!" Parvati squealed. "That's our favorite class! We'll show you where it is."

"You'll love Professor Trelawney," Lavender said. "She knows so much."

Jack nodded, thinking that this had been the only positive thing said about the sibyl.

"You're still going to take us up on our offer, right Jack?" Lavender asked.

"You'll let me tell your fortune, of course, won't you Jack?" Parvati said.

"Uh-uhh," Lavender shook her head. "He wants me to tell his fortune. I'm better at it."

"But I'm the goddess, remember?"

They went into a large argument. Jack was trying to search for a way to calm the two of them down. "Girls, girls!" he shouted. "I appreciate your offer, but I would prefer to hear it from the sibyl herself."

"Why do you call Professor Trelawney by her first name?" Lavender asked.

"It is not her name. It is her title."

"He is right, almost," Parvati muttered.

The two were quiet after that and showed him to the room. Jack sat at a table in the back, and Neville joined him. The sibyl had a cute classroom, but it was rather hot. Jack didn't mind too much. The dry air and the incensed fire made him think of Delphi and what his experience would have been if he had seen the Oracle. A skinny woman with large glasses and a sparkly, gaudy dress stood before them. She looked depressed, and it was soon made clear why. Undertaker came up the trapdoor with clipboard in hand. "Good afternoon, Mystic Fortune Teller," he said with a snicker.

"Afternoon, Undertaker," she muttered. She scanned through the roll, and then she spied Jack. Her already magnified eyes grew even bigger, and an expression of relief crossed her face. It looked as though she had found something to hope for. Yet then she saw Undertaker staring at her, and she turned away. "You know what to do, class. Begin."

"Hey Jack," Neville said softly. "Do you remember your dream last night?"

"Yes. It is the same dream I have dreamt for countless nights. I am home."

"Oh. Er, can you be more specific?"

Jack described the dream in detail, though he dreaded it. Neville wrote it down and then looked them up in the tome in front of him. "OK, it says you're longing for something."

Jack rolled his eyes. He didn't need a sibyl to tell him that.

"Here's my dream. I wrote it down in my journal." Jack read the dream and interpreted it with the aid of the large book. "OK," Neville nodded. "Maybe next time you can write your dream in a journal, and this will be easier?"

"I do not know if we should be partners next time," Jack answered shaking his head. "It would become terribly mundane."

He watched the sibyl for the rest of the class. Undertaker was openly mocking her divining skill. It was cruel, and Jack felt sorry for the sibyl. After Undertaker left and everybody else was clearing the room, she sharply pointed at Jack. "You! Come here."

She shut the trapdoor, and he bowed to her. "What do you wish of me, great sibyl?"

"Ah, my dear," she said taking his hand and looking at him through those glasses-enlarged eyes, "the question is what do you wish of me."

Jack was at a loss for words. How did she know?

"Long have I seen your coming: a stranger out of the mists, his heart laden with questions which no man can answer."

"Yes. Do you know these answers?"

"Oh yes. I can show you what impending disasters lie in the way of your dreams. I can show you how to obtain everything you wish. Great wealth and fame, true love, long life!"

"If you know me so well, you would know I do not seek these things."

"All men seek these things," the sibyl said laughing.

"Perhaps most men do, but not I. I only wish to go home."

The sibyl gave him a look as if to say, "Oh, you're one of those people." But then she smiled. "Very well. The fates will point you in the right way. You do wish to hear what they have to tell you?"

"I shall be very interested. Shall we start later this afternoon?"

"That will not be a good time."

"But you will be finished with classes then."

"No, I mean it will not be a good time for you. You shall see. In fact, you will be preoccupied for quite some time. Shall we say, Monday after holidays?"

"I suppose so."

"Very well. I will see you, my dear."

Jack felt rather awkward as he left. What was going to happen to him?

He went to his final class, DADA, and once again sat in the back. Professor Umbridge was sitting at her desk. Jack nodded at her to be polite, but she did not even acknowledge him. Before long, the whole class was seated, and Professor Umbridge stood. "Good afternoon, class," she said with false cheerfulness in her voice.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class replied in a mutter. Their tone implied that this was the last place they wanted to be in the whole world.

"Wands away and quills out, please." No one moved. "I would like for all of you to turn to page 100 and read 'Chapter 9: The Proper Time to Use Defense.' There will be no need to talk."

The class heaved a huge sigh and turned to page 100 together. Then the classroom was filled with silence. Yes, this was terribly uninteresting. As Jack did not have a book, there was nothing to do and nothing to observe. Why did Dumbledore put him in this class anyway? Was it just because Umbridge taught it? It must be. While everyone else was reading, he could spy on her. Now where was she? She wasn't at her desk, so she--

"Hem hem!"

Umbridge was stand right in front of him, grinning a huge, uncomfortable smile. "What is your name?"

"I am called Jack."

"Surname?"

"The teachers know it as Samson, but--"

"Mr. Samson, do you have the ability to hear?"

"Yes madam."

"And can you read?"

"Yes madam."

"Then why have you not followed my instructions five minutes ago and started reading along with the rest of the class?"

"Have you spoken to Dumbledore?"

"I ask the questions!"

The entire class stopped reading and stared at Jack. He sighed and said slowly and sternly, "I am only here to observe. I do not have a book. I do not have a quill. I have not come to read or write anything. I am here to watch and learn."

Whispers filled the room. Umbridge briskly turned around, and the whispers stopped.

"I take this to mean that you know all the information from the book since you did not bother to bring it here and participate."

The words came out of his mouth before he even realized it. "Sensei, that is not what I said. You do not understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr. Samson, and you will address me as Professor Umbridge."

"I apologize, but--"

"You will write an essay detailing all the lessons of defense you have learned, and you will turn it in to me by the end of class. If you need parchment and a quill, I will supply it to you."

"Yes, please Sensei Umbridge, that is--I am sorry. You remind me of a former instructor I had."

But Umbridge had long turned a deaf ear to Jack. She put a roll of parchment and a quill before him. Her instruction wasn't that hard. Jack wrote all the kennings and proverbs that he could remember, things like "A warrior must learn to fight on every level," and "You can never defeat another if you know not how to defeat yourself."

He had a full scroll ready by the end of class. Umbridge skimmed through his writing and, before Jack's eyes, crumpled the scroll and tore it up. "This is disgraceful, Mr. Samson. Nothing of this nature is mentioned in Wilbert Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory."

"But Sensei, you asked--"

"You will serve detention with me tomorrow at five o'clock."

Jack bowed resolutely. "Yes Sensei."