Archive of Our Own (BETA rev. 2101)

Godric paced around and around, the action seeming almost natural because the room itself was round. He put his face in his hands. Dear God, he thought, why did I agree to do this?

He took another glance at the open book resting on the desk that sat in front of an arrow-slit he used as a window. The book told him that this was the first of September and that the year was 1113 Anno Domini, while the arrow-slit window told him that the sun was just starting to rise. Godric had risen with the sun since he was a child, but that wasn't why he was awake now.

It was nerves. He was frightened beyond speech, and by children who he hadn't even met. Calm down, he told himself. No, I can't calm down! another voice said. I was right when I said I couldn't teach! How could I have been so stupid? Why did I decide to do this?

Then again, it hadn't been much of a choice. He could have starved in Gryffindor's Hollow. And Fudge would have found out about his copy of the Voluma Animaguum soon enough. Better to be here, with Rowena trying to steal his work, than to be shouted at for not being able to instantly grant Fudge with the mystical ability to turn into whatever animal he so chose. At least Rowena understood that it didn't work that way. Of course, she was cleverer than he was, and more well-versed in languages and heathenish stories, and the original Society of Animagi had done all they could to obfuscate their art, so he was fairly sure she'd beat him to it anyway. But it was a labor of love and futility, not of practicality.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he should have been working on the Voluma Animaguum right now, but he didn't think he could concentrate, and transfiguration without concentration was more dangerous than many intentional curses. So he resumed pacing. Pacing was something he could do without effort, and also something he could do while thinking about something else. But in this building, it was better to go to a private room to pace, as everything in the castle seemed to shift around, and Godric's memory was terrible anyway.

Godric really couldn't blame the castle for being restless on a day like today.

"I am not going to panic," he said aloud, although he didn't seem to hear himself. "All right, perhaps I am going to panic. In fact -- yes, I'm panicking right now," he realized. "That must be why I'm talking to myself! Oh, lovely, I'm going mad, too." He looked out the window and saw that the sun had levered itself halfway above the horizon. "I should really stop talking to myself -- supposing someone should hear me," he said, more to break the silence than for anyone's benefit. He supposed he should go down to breakfast at this point, but he decided not to. While Godric felt like he'd never really had enough to eat until he'd come to the castle, today he felt vaguely nauseated and not particularly hungry.

I think I'll skip breakfast, he thought. In fact, can I skip the entire day? With this thought he sat down on his bed and quietly panicked once more.

When he looked up at the arrow-slit again, he realized that he was probably going to be very late to his first class.

"Gah!" He was too frightened to think coherently, much less to teach. He ran down the staircase to the dormitories below, where he found that the students had all left to go to their first class: Transfiguration. He closed his eyes. No. This is bad. Make it stop!

Well, he thought, when the universe had failed to obey him, I suppose there's nothing for it but to run like hell. He dashed out of the common room at a terrific pace.

* * *

Six frightened children were standing in a worried knot just outside the Great Hall.

"Our first class is Transfiguration," someone said authoritatively. Julian de Malfoie looked up and saw that it was a brown-haired girl who looked as though she knew what she was doing. She was squinting at a wrinkled bit of parchment.

"What's Transfiguration?" he asked curiously.

"Ah, you're Muggle-born, aren't you?" asked the brown-haired girl.

"What?" asked Julian. Whatever she'd said, it sounded like an insult. Perhaps it was a curse. But Lady Ravenclaw had seemed nice when she'd asked Julian's father if he wanted to send Julian to a wizard school. So what did he have to worry about?

She squinted at the parchment again. "I think the room's down here, but I'm not sure."

"Who are you?" a red-haired boy asked her. He had several tons of freckles on his face, and Julian studied him with faint disgust -- he was very poorly-dressed, and he had a peasanty accent. But he seemed to know as little as Julian himself did, and for that Julian sided with him.

"And what's a Muggle-born?" asked Julian.

"I know it because it's written right here," said the girl, pointing at some incomprehensible lines scrawled on the parchment. "My name's Helena," she added.

"I'm Devlin," said the redhead.

"Julian," Julian said.

"Isn't that a girl's name?" asked Devlin.

"No!" said Julian. Who did he think he was, anyway?

"Is your nickname Julie?" asked Devlin.

"Juliet," said Helena, squinting. "He looks a bit like a Juliet."

Julian felt himself going red. "It is not a girl's name! And what kind of a name is Devlin, anyway? It sounds as though you're a devil." Two girls, who seemed to know Devlin, laughed weakly before returning to their standard frightened rabbit expressions.

"It does not!" Devlin said.

"Come on," said Helena. "We're going to be late! And what's a devil, anyway?"

"Isn't that one of those dangerous Christian things?" asked a thin, pale boy nervously.

"Devils are these evil demon things, with big horns coming out of their heads and pointy tails and they breathe fire!" explained Devlin in one breath.

"Sounds boring," said Helena. "Come on, we're going to be very late to class," she said, motioning them down the hall.

"They do not breathe fire," said Julian.

"And how would you know?" asked Devlin. "My older brother says they do."

"And I suppose he would know?" asked Julian.

"As long as nothing shows up here, we're fine," said the thin boy.

"I heard there was a demon professor," said Devlin.

"From who?" asked Julian and the thin boy at the same time.

"My older brother," Devlin muttered.

"If I were your older brother, I'd tell you all sorts of things," said the thin boy. "You're very gullible."

"I am not!" said Devlin.

"Well, then, we're all a bit gullible if we're here, aren't we?" asked Julian. "Magic isn't supposed to be real," he added. "The Pope said so himself, says Father."

"No good can come of an institution that restricts things like that," said the thin boy sanctimoniously. Helena sighed as though she'd heard it all before. "My Uncle Glendower isn't even allowed to study corpses! Even if he promises not to make them do things!"

Devlin and Julian exchanged horrified glances, but Helena simply rolled her eyes. "You're scaring the Muggle-borns, Ethelbert. This is Ethelbert Filch, by the way," she told them.

"Sorry," said the previously nameless Ethelbert. "Muggles are a pet peeve of mine."

"Shouldn't we be going to class? We're going to be late," said Julian, who was anxious to make a good impression. And so Helena, Devlin, Julian, Ethelbert Filch, and the two frightened rabbit girls (whose names turned out to be Gwen and Alice), they set off to find the classroom.

When they reached the empty classroom after going in circles around the castle for what seemed like forever, Helena told everyone where to sit, saying, "Won't the teacher be surprised that we're here before him, and in the right order?"

Devlin asked eagerly if she knew what subject the demon professor taught. She looked annoyed. "There is no demon professor," she snapped.

"Perhaps he teaches this class," said Devlin. "Perhaps that's where he keeps peoples' bodies," he added, pointing to a sort of wooden box that sat at the front of the classroom. It was huge and rectangular, with the longer side facing them. It looked, Julian noted uncomfortably, as though it could hold at least four bodies.

"The Church wouldn't let him keep bodies in there," said Ethelbert glumly.

"Well," said Devlin, "if he was a demon, the Church wouldn't be able to do anything about him, would they?"

"They could exorcise him," said Julian.

"In a godless place like a school of magic?" asked Devlin.

"Excuse me?" asked Helena. "Godless? We aren't godless! We have quite enough gods, thank you very much!"

"The Church thinks you're godless," explained Devlin, sounding offended. "I never said I thought you were godless. Have as many gods as you like!"

"This whole debate is pointless," said Helena, "as there's no demon professor and there never will be. My mother wouldn't employ anyone who ate people," she continued.

"Your mother?" asked Devlin and Julian.

Helena turned bright red. "She wouldn't," she repeated under her breath.

Their earlier 'Julian-is-a-girl's-name' dispute forgotten, Devlin and Julian exchanged glances.

"Your mother wouldn't happen to be Lady Ravenclaw, would she?" asked Julian.

She said nothing.

"Perhaps her mother's the demon professor," said Devlin helpfully.

She turned her head slowly towards Devlin and Julian, her eyes mere slits. Gwen (or was it Alice?) emitted a small squeak and put a hand over her mouth as Helena jumped at them, fists clenched.

Devlin and Julian jumped out of their seats just in time -- both of them knew that you shouldn't hit a girl, and Julian, for his part, had never hit anyone and didn't know how it was done. He was about to ask Filch for some help, when Alice (or Gwen? Everything was so confusing today!) gave a much louder squeak and fell over in a dead faint. The blood had drained from Helena's face and she was staring at something at the front of the room.

"Oh dear," said a worried voice from where Helena was looking. Julian and Devlin's eyes slid towards the direction of the voice, and saw that the speaker was a man of about twenty, who had brown hair and an apologetic expression, and was comparable in height with a fully-grown mountain troll.

"I'm assuming that's not her mother," hissed Julian angrily. Devlin nodded, gulped, and sat down rather delicately, as though any sudden moves might upset the recent arrival. Helena had already done this, of course, and not wanting to be left out, Julian grabbed his seat and collapsed into it. Now the only person out of their seat was Alice-or-Gwen, who was still making up for missed sleep.

"Does she always do this?" asked the Demon Professor, indicating Alice-or-Gwen.

"A-all the time," stuttered Devlin. Gwen-or-Alice nodded.

"Isn't there some sort of long Latin name for that kind of thing? Oh well, never mind," said the Demon Professor, who wasn't behaving in a particularly demonic manner. To tell the truth, it was a bit disappointing.

He walked over to Alice-or-Gwen, got down on one knee so that he could see her face, and said "Ennervate!" suddenly, waving what appeared to be a wand at her. Julian sat up -- this was more like it!

Alice-or-Gwen opened her eyes, shrieked, and said, "Please don't eat me!"

The Demon Professor looked truly horrified, but then, Minions of Evil had to be good actors, hadn't they? "Are you all right?" he asked her. He turned to the rest of the class. "Did she hit her head?"

Alice-or-Gwen didn't seem to know about the job requirements of Minions of Evil. "He was talking about dead bodies," she said, pointing an accusing finger at Ethelbert Filch. "And he's a heretic," she added bravely. "And he," she said, pointing at Devlin, "said something about a demon professor."

"A demon professor?" asked the Demon Professor, who was obviously going to attempt a clever ruse. Julian, however, was on to his game. "Come to think of it, we have got a demon professor. She's not around at the moment, though," he said sadly.

Suddenly someone started pounding on the door. "Godric, you idiot!" shouted a woman from behind it. Julian wasn't sure, but he thought it was Lady Ravenclaw.

"This is not my day," said the Demon Professor, whose name was apparently Godric. He put his face in his hands and muttered something about a headache.

"Godric, you're going to give that book back in good condition if you want to stay in one piece!" said the voice, which was definitely Lady Ravenclaw. She slammed the door open, and the teacher gulped. Perhaps he wasn't a demon professor, thought Julian. He doubted anyone would treat a demon the way most people treated a younger brother.

The teacher gulped and held his wand uncertainly. "Now, Rowena, if you'd just--"

"Just what?" asked Lady Ravenclaw. "You -- you little runt, it'd better be in good repair or I'll repair you! With a cleaver!" Julian was not certain exactly what Lady Ravenclaw was seeing, because their Transfiguration teacher fit the description of 'little runt' about as much as a dragon could be termed 'a charming pet.'

"W-would you let me explain --" started the professor, backing up behind the giant wooden box so that it was between himself and Lady Ravenclaw. Julian suddenly realized that the wooden box must be his desk.

"Explain what?" demanded Lady Ravenclaw, shooting several balls of fire at her opponent, who side-stepped them quickly. Julian was now completely convinced that, despite outward appearances, this was not the dreaded Demon Professor.

The ex-demon (and apparently ex-professor) seemed to be condemned to a fiery death at the wand of a madwoman, when suddenly he pointed his wand at his desk. It became a huge monstrous thing with a lion's body, a scorpion's tail, and the face of a man, but with razor-sharp teeth.

"You can't do that!" said Lady Ravenclaw, shocked at an apparent gross violation of rules. She distanced herself as much as possible from the beast. "Ninane's Non-Undoability Principle forbids it!"

"It's a Deformis Disparity," he countered as the monster roared. There was a small smile on his face, and Julian waited for him to say 'Ha!' defiantly.

"Rowena, you're slipping," she muttered, putting her hand to her forehead as though she had a headache. She waved her wand at the beast, and it paused woodenly, then melted back into a perfectly mundane (if rather oversized) desk. "Where was I? Oh yes, the book --"

"Is right here!" he said, holding a thick, leather-bound volume over her head. "I just had to look something up, that's all. I meant to put it back but I got lost on the way to the library..." He trailed off, looking glum. With a flick of her wand, it flew into her arms. She tossed it some distance away, opened it with a spell, and, when she was satisfied that it wasn't rigged, grabbed it, flipped through it one last time, and left.

By this time, most of the class was looking deeply impressed with their teacher, except for Helena, who was deeply embarrassed but only vaguely impressed.

* * *

Godric, now that he was in front of an actual class, was wondering if he should have just let Rowena kill him, because the class was apparently convinced he hailed from a circle of Hell and not a tiny Muggle village, and he hadn't actually prepared a good introduction to his class. He supposed that Transfiguration was not entirely useful, but it was worth learning because... er, well, because it was? Because big complicated spells needed it, he supposed. He glanced at the class, and from their astonished faces he supposed he'd have to explain himself.

"Can you do that again?" asked a red-haired boy whose name Godric didn't know, as he'd left his seating chart in his tower room.

"How did you do that?" asked a blonde boy seated next to the first. Godric didn't know his name either.

Two girls, who looked to be more or less the same person, clung together in fright.

A tall, dark-haired boy was writing something down quickly. "What's Ninane's Non-thingy-majigger?" he asked quickly. "And how do you spell it?"

"En eye en ay en ee," said a girl with a very red face. "And I don't know what it is. Ask him."

"I was!" countered the boy.

"Er," said Godric eloquently. "I don't know anyone's names."

"Oh, that's all right," said the girl who'd spelled 'Ninane'. She held up a piece of parchment and said, "Mum gave me this -- and yes, she is my mother," she added nastily to the blonde boy, while waving the parchment at Godric.

Godric took it. "So, there's... Devlin, Julian, Helena, Ethelbert, Gwen, and Alice," he said, pointing at the relevant seats. Gwen and Alice must have discovered that they were in the wrong seats, as they switched hurriedly and continued looking terrified.

"Er, yes," said Godric. "This is, er, Transfiguration, which basically means turning one thing into something else, as with that desk and the manticore. We won't be covering manticores anytime soon, unfortunately, because they're a bit dangerous and I don't want anybody to die." With some surprise, Godric realized that he did have some idea of what he was talking about, and that the class seemed to understand as well, even Gwen and Alice. He went on to explain some basic principles of the subject, and soon noticed that he didn't seem to be fouling everything up. In fact, he seemed to know what he was doing. Perhaps he would keep this job after all...

* * *

The students filed into Rowena's classroom, laughing and talking until they saw who was sitting at the front of the room. Rowena realized that her little confrontation with Godric might have unnerved them slightly. She supposed she'd better make it clear that her grudge was not against them, but against Godric. Flicking her wand almost unnoticeably, she cast a mere suggestion of a Calming Charm and stood up. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.

They all mumbled in response, but sat down. Most of them stared at either Rowena or Helena. Rowena noted that the de Malfoie boy was amongst the students and raised an eyebrow -- his Muggle father had not consented to let his son attend the school, preferring to leave the child's education up to some sort of religious institution. She decided that later she would ask the boy how he'd made his father see the light, as the father had seemed loving but rather closedminded.

The other students who were already here were mostly the children of poor Muggles, though Rowena knew that a few other wizard-born students would be flying in later in the day, when their parents were awake enough to bring them in. For this reason she had decided to devote her opening class to explaining the fact of magic's existence, non-malevolence, and lack of specific religious affiliation rather than to learning actual magic, as this was the bit that wizard-born students could afford to miss.

"This class," Rowena began, "is called Charms, and in it you will be learning a variety of spells and incantations, as well as the theory behind them. However, I'd like you to gain an understanding of magic before we begin, as I know most of you don't really have a good idea of what magic is. Most of you -- excepting young Master Filch, of course -- have grown up hearing that magic is something you may obtain only through dealing with demons. So, today we will start with these." She pulled out a large box of aura-lenses, on which she'd cast multiple Unbreakable Charms, and passed one out to each student. "Now," she said, "what do you make of them?"

The confusion on their faces turned swiftly to wonder as they discovered that their classmates were glowing with bright colors. Even Alice was grinning as she scrutinized her classmates through the lens. "Gwen, look! You've got the loveliest sort of green around you!"

"Where?" Gwen examined her hands.

"Here, look through this," Alice said, pressing the lens into her hand.

"You're all pink! ...Devlin's the color of his hair, look at that!" The freckled boy stuck his tongue out at them, and they laughed.

* * *

It was lunchtime, and most of the students (several more had trickled in throughout the day) were either greedily stuffing their faces or preparing to do so.

"I'm confused," said Julian, grabbing five or six almond-cardamom cakes and popping one into his mouth. When he'd swallowed, he continued. "Why do they hate each other?"

"I don't know!" said Helena. "I think it has something to do with this experiment... thingy... that Mum's working on.

"Experiment thingy?" asked Devlin (though it came out sounding like 'Effeffifenf fingee' through his mouthful of roast beef).

"Yes, an experiment thingy. And she won't tell me what it is, either."

"Perhaps it's dangerous," Julian ventured.

"Perhaps it's evil!" Devlin suggested enthusiastically.

"I don't think it's evil," said Helena thoughtfully, staring into space. "The last time she did something evil, she was behaving much more oddly..." she continued, trailing off. Julian and Devlin exchanged glances, both looking like suckling pigs, with their mouths stuffed full of food and their eyes wide and startled. "No, it's definitely not something evil," concluded Helena. "It could be dangerous, though. I'm going to find out," she decided suddenly.

"How are you going to do that?" asked Julian. Devlin was still processing Helena's earlier comments.

"I don't know," said Helena. "I suppose I'll just poke around a bit. She's not very good at hiding things. Particularly sweets," she added with a satisfied smile.