I wish to be your instructor in a number of matters important to the young person of good breeding.
I beg the indulgence of Masters Draco and Harry while I explain to Miss Hermione what it is I intend to teach. You see, we four are wizards—or, more properly, Miss Hermione, you and I are witches. We hide our world from Muggle—that is, non-magical—eyes for our own safety; as perhaps you have already learned, the odd and strange, the mysterious and inexplicable, is to Muggle folk dangerous and not to be tolerated.
My students, please understand that this lessoning is meant to be secret. Miss Hermione, you may tell your parents if they vow on their honor that they will tell no one, but they are unlikely to believe you, and I believe it will be best if they remain unaware. Master Harry, from what little I know of your relations, what they have told you of your parents and your world, they told you most reluctantly; and I believe it will be best if they remain unaware. Master Draco, under no circumstances are you to permit your father to know of this.
With great hopes and best wishes,
I do not know where this notebook came from and I do not know if I believe what Madam Ariadna Turner says. Witchcraft is not real. Not real real. It’s just something people like Shakespeare put in stories to make the stories more interesting.
…but Madam Turner said "odd" and "inexplicable" and I know I broke Mum’s porcelain doll but I never got in trouble because I wished I didn’t break it and the doll stopped being broken.
Somebody write back. If this works how Madam Turner says, somebody write back.
Hello, Hermione. I stole my cousin’s dictionary to read Madam Turner’s letter. I do not have my own dictionary but Dudley does not like to read at all.
What does Madam Turner mean when she says my mum stopped a war the night she and my dad died? My parents died in a car crash.
Who is this Madam Turner? I don’t know anyone named Turner. I don’t know anyone named Granger either. My father says the only people who should be important to me are the ones I always knew.
But my father says doing favors for people so they will do favors for you is important too.
Harry Potter? Are you really being raised by Muggles, or just by wolves? Do you really have a scar on your forehead?
Oh grand. Aunt Marge is coming to stay for a week. She'll be here tomorrow and so will her favorite dog. Excellent. Simply superb. After tomorrow morning, don't expect to hear from me until 15 July.
How many Dursleys are there? Is there something more than usually wrong with this one?
Imagine all the different ways you could hex her sideways.
Draco, flip back to Christmas 1987. Harry's told us about her before. Dog biscuits, honestly.
Could Harry hex her legally, Madam Turner? Even if we were eleven and had wands? And please don't do any accidental-on-purpose hexing, Harry; it might be legal if the Ministry thinks you couldn't help it, but that doesn't mean it's safe. Or polite.
Master Harry, greatest of sympathies. Upon your return I shall expect a four-inch essay on ways in which you, in accordance with the law and polite behavior, refrained from hexing Miss Dursley sideways. Please describe how each spell you might wish to use is categorized as transfiguration, charm, hex, or jinx.
Master Draco and Miss Hermione, I shall expect a similar essay from each of you.
Harry—that was you in Madam Malkin's? I apologize. Reputation, you know.
Do you have any idea how much like Dudley you sounded?
I don't see why first-years can't have their own brooms either.
Probably because SOME of us need FLYING lessons before getting on one! Madam Turner, you are marvelous, please understand—but the only broomsticks my house has are used to sweep the floor.
YOU TWO GOT TO MEET IN PERSON I cannot wait for 1 September!
Then you have all three heard Mr. Ollivander lecturing to some degree on the components of properly made English wands?
Riddle me this, students. How, in a very general sense, are English wands structured? What are the crucial components, and why are each of those components necessary?
Mr. Ollivander seemed most concerned with the wood of the wand, the length of the wand, and the core of the wand.
I wonder what is the core of the Elder Wand, and how long it is. Or is supposed to be.
I think the wand core is what channels its wizard's magic. The wood—unicorn hairs and phoenix feathers flop rather. Dragon heartstring is probably the same. The wood is to keep the spell pointed in the right direction. People say things about wand woods, though. "Rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans."
I don't know what length has to do with it.
Maybe to make it more unique? Every unicorn is different and every beech tree is different, just like every witch is different. So two witches with different beechwood and unicorn hair wands still have very different wands. I bet it helps if the beech tree is magical itself, too. Didn't you say something about bowtruckles in the trees at your house, Draco?
Mr. Ollivander said the phoenix whose feather is in my wand—there's only one other wand with a feather from that phoenix. He said my wand's brother gave me my scar.
...Good heavens, Harry.
Very good analysis, all of you.
MADAM TURNER Gryffindor won the Quidditch match!
(Eat dirt Draco)
Of course he thinks that's the important part.
Madam Turner, someone was jinxing Harry's broom, trying to throw him off. By sheer coincidence I'm sure, Professor Snape was staring at Harry the whole time, muttering. He left off when I snuck into the teacher's section and set his robes on fire, but—let me be strictly fair here—nearly all the teachers stopped looking at Harry right then too.
(No, I didn't get caught.)
Coincidence. Yes. Of course. Did you only look at Professor Snape because he doesn't like either of you, or did you look at everyone? Any of the students. Any of the teachers. I grant that most of the student body would find tampering with a professionally charmed broomstick beyond their abilities—if Harry was flying on a school broom, I might suspect anyone in third year or higher. (Especially, I'm sorry to say, in Slytherin.) But that's a shining new Nimbus Two Thousand!
Why would Professor Snape want to jinx Harry's broom like that? To win the match? He's a Slytherin. That's too blatant. Something more subtle would be more effective (Marcus Flint scoring five times notwithstanding). And something more subtle would be much harder to spot.
Does dirt taste like Snitch?
Students, please do some research into the last war.
Recalling that children are not their parents: who might you suspect of being freely-walking willing servants of the Dark Lord's—and why? Who might you suspect of being coerced or controlled servants of the Dark Lord's—and why?
Madam Turner, I'm taking dictation from Harry as needed. That Bludger tried to kill him and then Lockhart tried to kill him again, smiling so dazzlingly bright that no one really believes he meant any harm.
Quote: "He didn't try to kill me. He's just an incompetent ass."
This is true, but imagine: What if he had de-boned your rib cage, instead of just the arm the Bludger broke?
[in very sloppy handwriting]
Draco, do you know who owns a house-elf named Dobby? He hexed the Bludger.
I begin to suspect what is wrong with this school is the identity of certain of its oversight. I shall name no names, but it is not the most clever ploy.
Ash is stubborn
Ha. I bet Myrtle had a hazel wand. Professor Binns—clearly chestnut.
Draco, do you want to come study with Harry and me in the library, as soon as Madam Pomfrey lets Harry loose?
I think that would be a very good idea. Poor Colin.
Harry, I must beg of you, do not do anything rash. With a pinch of luck, Sirius Black will never come near enough to you to endanger you—please do not seek him out.
Don't worry, Madam Turner. I'm well occupied for the next week imagining ways I could be hexing Miss Marjorie Dursley. To say nothing of Mr. Vernon Dursley. Get this. I attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.
Asking Draco to invite me over for a week—knowing who his parents are—seems like the better option.
We could run away to France together and impose on Hermione's family. You've got your dad's cloak, we could both fit under it on either broom—the trouble would be the other broom and our school trunks! And then once we're on the school train, we're shut of every relation under the sun until summer.
Don't get in trouble, please.
That sounds like an excellent plan, Draco. Let's.
Let's jinx Miss Marjorie Dursley on the way out. "It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she says. "If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup. And of course one can't get a purebred pup when the sire is a mongrel—" At which point I departed the premises rather than hex her tongue backwards.
Madam Turner, you'll want to know they actually did it. Draco is buttering up Mum with lines out of Shakespeare and Harry is talking baking tooth-friendly sweets with Dad. I hope they're not going to be in trouble with the Ministry? Either Ministry...
I don't think they actually jinxed Miss Dursley. But they haven't told me what they did do, either. I suspect them of having listened to the Weasley twins for a few minutes too many.
Truth be told, though I must as your teacher disapprovingly say that was quite reckless of you gentlemen, France is probably the safest place for both of you to be.
Harry...are you all right?
Did I look all right to you? In case you missed this small detail, Draco, the Tournament has a death toll. I am three years too young to compete and I did not enter.
Madam Turner, would you happen to know any way of getting out of magically binding contracts? Does the bit where I did not sign up for this help me get out of it? I want to cheer for Cedric from the sidelines just like the rest of Hogwarts!
I regret to say I have made no great study of contractual magic.
I fear the Goblet is so powerfully enspelled against cheating, a new layer at every Tournament interweaving with the layers already there, that any scheme cunning enough to convince it that you, Harry, are—I assume—the only participating student from a fourth competing school of magic...such a scheme must have been plotted by someone who would know that you would not participate willingly, and who would thus rely on not requiring your willing participation.
Be exceedingly careful, my students.
We won't disappoint you, Madam Turner.
—and as you are not formally one of our teachers, it is hardly cheating if Harry asks your assistance, any more than it is cheating if he asks ours or Padfoot's, now is it?
Madam Turner, promise me I'll get through this? Lie to me if you must.
If you do not survive this, I shall be very cross with your ghost or your gravestone.
I'll take that as a vote of confidence. On to the maze...
Something's gone wrong. It's down to Harry and Cedric, but the seeing spells—they've blinked out.
Madam Turner, I've spelled myself a Dictation Quill and it's going to write down everything exactly as Harry says it happened…
MADAM TURNER please be reading this please be reading this—I need a way to get a message to and from someone located somewhere under a Fidelius Charm—without anyone being able to intercept the message.
I have not been slacking on my Occlumency, I promise you—but I think he might have been slacking on his.
Tell me everything.
I fell asleep during the History exam—I don't think I was charmed and I don't think I was slipped a potion, but I admit the possibilities—and I saw the whole vision of the Department of Mysteries. They're torturing Padfoot there. They're going to kill him...
Hurry, please, Madam Turner. Draco and Ron are sitting on Harry right now. Literally; it's almost amusing.
Mr. Padfoot wishes to remind you, Harry, that he gave you a two-way mirror for Christmas. For the love of all things holy, young man, use it.
Madam Turner, thank you. I don't think Padfoot will be terribly happy—though at this point I doubt he will be surprised—to learn that Harry never even opened that little package.
I don't believe this. I do not believe this. Why am I so upset about this? I'm glad he's locked up! Good RIDDANCE!
He is your father. Emotional responses, as you have perhaps noticed, are not required to be sensible, logical, or believable.
Mother won't even talk to me. I don't understand.
And how often have you been talking to her, Draco?
...Hermione, have I mentioned lately that I hate it when you make sense?
Why, yes. It usually precedes my saving your grade on an important essay.
Flirt somewhere else, you two.
I suspect Narcissa Black of having no idea whether to be amused or appalled right now.
Two down. Four to go, and then the Snitch itself.
What are you talking about?
Winning this war.
Madam Turner—you are safe where you are, or you can make sure you are entirely safe very quickly? And you can reinforce the spells to ensure that no one but us four can properly read this notebook? Because I imagine if he finds out you know the secret I would very much like to tell you now, then—
Please forgive the delay in my response. I am out of the British Isles now, and as safe as I believe I can be. I shall not tell you where, you understand, only that you may recognize the place from a past misadventure.
We understand, Madam Turner.
Glad one of us does.
Madam Turner, have you ever heard the word 'Horcrux'?
[A large inkblot obscures the lower half of the page.]
You're still all right, Madam Turner? And your little dog, too? I worry.
Better. Permit me to save you a trip to Gringotts. Do persuade some of your friends still in Hogwarts to fetch and part with the Sword of Gryffindor? The one I found was counterfeit.
I'll try. But you understand we won't ask any of them to risk their lives—there are other ways to destroy Horcruxes.
How did you survive robbing Gringotts?
Simple. I entered on legitimate business, and did nothing else within their walls. Harry, I trust you will retroactively grant me the legal right to do business on your behalf?
I believe we are due a discussion, Madam Turner.
I believe we are. Perhaps soon.
You have your father's cloak to hand, Harry, and that Snitch from your first game? And do remind me what is the score?
If you truly have saved us the Gringotts effort—then once we have the Sword back in hand—there's only one left to find. Two, if we count—but it's never far from—
I'm sorry, Madam Turner. We're twitchy tonight.
We earned being twitchy. Last time I ever save Miss Marjorie Dursley's life, I'm telling you. Who decided she would make good bait anyway? And why did we fall for it?
The last but one's probably at Hogwarts anyway. Shall we sneak in, Harry?
I'm all right. I was talking to Phineas Nigellus. Madam Turner, if what you mean by asking for Gryffindor's sword is that you promised it to the goblins, I'm not sure we can do that. We need it to destroy the prizes.
Do you take me for someone unskilled at the art of exchange? I did not promise delivery until after the game is done.
Be careful, my students. Be extraordinarily careful.
We got the last but one.
We're going to confront him now. Subtly. As subtly as can be managed given how much backup we're bringing—we sneaked out all of Dumbledore's Army. I've particularly warned both Weasleys, Abbott, Macmillan, Corner, Padma Patil, and both Greengrasses to make sure the snake dies first.
We had a letter from Hogwarts today. Ariadna's in Slytherin. You would be proud.
Dora's changed her mind now—she wants to be a Ravenclaw, so that between James in Hufflepuff and Luke in Gryffindor and now Ari and then Dora, we'll have a clean sweep. This should make Quidditch amusing in a year or two.
Harry's reading his notebook and laughing himself sick. Just for that, Potter, you're sleeping in the living room tonight. Hermione will wholeheartedly agree once I explain things.
I miss you, Mum.