Categories > Books > Harry Potter > An American Wizard in Hogwarts
Disclaimer: Nice men, white suits, yadda, yadda, yadda. By now you realize that I'm not J.K. Rowling, and as such I make no money from this, right? Right? Good.
A/N: Sorry for the delay. Moving day finally came, and I was caught completely unaware. Honest. As I write this, I'm not sure when I'll get this up. Though, as of 3 March 2008, I've written three 4,000+ word chapters, another 3700+ word chapter, expanded one of the pre-existing chapters of Innocence Faded to 4000+words, made various changes to the rest of Innocence Faded, plotted out a few more chapters. And I've written a 3000 word chapter for Without You.
Now for some actual story related notes. First, the Monty Python reference I threw into Chapter 4 was the wood Hermione's wand was made of, combined with the fact that it was the second wand she tried. I referenced the sketch "How to recognize trees from quite a ways away." Obviously no one got it. Second, there is no second note. Third, no poofters. (Plays laugh track) God this is a long author's note. As usual.
Chapter 10: The"Eyes" Have It
The day turned out not nearly as good as they thought it would be. First, in Potions, Matt managed to make the stuff they put inside Stretch Armstrong. Then, in History of Magic, Professor Binns shocked everybody by giving his first pop-quiz in almost 300 years.
Harry was sitting down to lunch next to Hermione, across from Matt and Ron, and as he reached for the last slice of ham, Hermione reached in and got it before he did.
"Hey, I wanted that!" Harry cried petulantly.
"'Tough titty,' said the kitty, 'the milk's all gone,'" Hermione replied. Matt sniggered.
Ron, once he got over the shock of what he just heard, said, "Still, I'd like to find out for myse--" He was unable to finish that statement after Matt's backhand. Ron tumbled off of the bench and the unmistakable klunk of a skull on stone was heard
"Watch your mouth," Matt said. He then looked down and noticed the dazed look on Ron's face and sprang into triage mode. "Now, are you feeling dizzy or sick to your stomach? Perhaps disoriented? Do you know what day it is?"
"Uhh, I don't know what today is. I am feeling alittle sick, and how am I supposed know if I'm disoriented or not if I'm not even sure where I am." Ron said while trying to uncross his eyes, and failing miserably.
"You've probably got aconcussion. C'mon, let's go see Madame Pomfrey." With that the two of them went to the hospital wing.
Neville, who had been watching the whole exchange, asked, "What was that you said, Hermione, about a cat and her, er..."
Harry answered for her. "Oh, that? That was just some saying that Matt's grandma uses. It's sort of a long way of saying 'too bad,' or 'tough luck.' That wasn't even the best response I've heard. The best was one Sirius, my godfather, had. He leaned over to my dad and whispered 'I think we all guessed that already,' after Matt's grandma said it."
"So that's why Uncle Theon backhanded Sirius at Christmas. I was wondering. Like father, like son I guess," Hermione responded.
After lunch was Double Defense against the Dark Arts. The lesson was sub par even by Quirrell's already low standards. Matt, Harry, and Hermione weren't paying attention, however. They had figured out in the first month that Quirrell made things unnecessarily complicated and the book was all they really needed to pay attention to in order to understand the subject--not that it helped them in class, since no one seemed to get good grades in D.A.D.A. Unfortunately, near the end of the lesson Quirrell called on Matt for an answer to a question. He looked up...straight into Quirrell's eyes.
What he saw nearly made him scream, but he clamped down on that impulse. He was thankful that his face never showed much emotion, otherwise instead of the slight nervousness he knew most people would read in his expression, sheer terror would be plain for all to see. What he saw in Quirrell's eyes was this: two souls, one black as hell at night, disfigured and...and /stunted/, the other withering, dying, and black, though not nearly as black as the other one. It was as if the stunted one was killing the other one, forcing it out of the body. Luckily the bell rang just then, and Matt was able to reach the door before anyone else.
Harry and Hermione rushed to catch up, but despite their longer legs Matt was faster. They finally caught up to him as he slowed to a stop in front of the Transfiguration room. "Why did you take off like a bat out of hell back there?" Harry asked as he caught his breath. Matt was barely short of breath.
"Quirrell. He's got two souls in him. One is blacker than black--so black that if Einstein is right and the universe really is circular, it'd come back around as white several times before finally settling down on black--disfigured and stunted. It's pure evil. The other is merely as black as the dark side of the moon. I'm not sure which one was his, but either way, we got a dark wizard teaching us Defense. Conflict of interest, don't ya think?"
They caught Professor McGonagall as she was exiting her classroom. "Professor, we really need to talk to you. It's a matter of school security," Hermione said as they walked up.
"Very well, please follow me to my office," the Professor said, as if humoring them, obviously believing that there was nothing that three first years could say that was of any consequence to the security of the school.
As soon as the door shut, Matt immediately said, "Quirrell is possessed. At least I think he is, I don't know what half of the stuff Isee means, bu-"
"Possessed? What you see? What are you talking about?!" a flustered Professor McGonagall sputtered at the boy currently staring at his shoes. Wordlessly, he looked up, into her eyes, and she felt as if he wasn't looking at her, rather he was looking inside her, at...at her /soul/! She'd never been this uncomfortable in her entire life. He looked down again.
When she finally managed to find her voice, she asked, "Mr. Robertson, you wouldn't happen to be a soul reader, by any chance, would you?" He nodded. "That explains a lot, but what makes you think Quirrell is possessed?" Matt just stood there, staring at his shoes.
Harry noticed Matt's discomfort, and spoke up, "Allow me, Professor. He told me and Hermione what he saw, and he can correct me if he feels the need. We were in Defense, near the end of the period, when Quirrell asked Matt aquestion..." Harry, with occasional input from Hermione, proceeded to explain what happened, and what Matt had told them.
Professor McGonagall was very grim-faced by the end of the tale. "Very well, I shall be taking this to Dumbledore at once. You should hurry up to Gryffindor Tower until Quirrell has been dealt with. Food will be sent to you.
Shortly after the trio reached the common room the announcement that students were to return to their dormitories rang from the walls. The portraits however, did not seem to notice it. Neither did Nearly Headless Nick, who was having a rather heated argument with a portrait of...himself?
"Hey, Nick, You do know that arguing with yourself is a sign of insanity right? Particularly if you find yourself losing the argument," Harry quipped to the partially decapitated ghost. Nearly Headless Nick merely glided into a wall, muttering to himself what sounded suspiciously like a monologue about a dead parrot that Harry had heard his dad quoting to Sirius once. Harry shrugged, and proceeded to attack the food on the table that had just appeared in the middle of the common room.
By the time the rest of Gryffindor had arrived, Matt had clammed up and was barely eating. Harry made his way over to where Hermione was sitting and sat next to her. "I hope we aren't locked up in here too long. I think Matt needs to see Madame Pomfrey. He's really shook up," he said, looking over to where his best friend sat alone.
As he watched, Ron went over to try to talk to him. He didn't have much success in getting Matt to talk, so he came over to where Harry and Hermione were sitting. He sat on the other side of Hermione. "Sorry about what I said at lunch. I wasn't thinking," he said to Hermione.
"And that's any different from normal because...?" Hermione replied, somewhere between irritation and amusement.
"Oi! I'm trying to apologize and all you do is insult me! What's up with that?" Ron exclaimed.
Harry, who had chuckled at Hermione's comment, roared with laughter at Ron's reaction. After he composed himself, he said, "Dude, that mean's she accepted your apology. If she says she accepts your apology she's only humoring you, usually because she doesn't think it's necessary, though sometimes because she's still carrying a minor grudge. If she's really angry, then she won't say anything. That's when you should run." This earned him slap in the back of the head. He looked at her and grinned.
Ron shook his head, muttering what sounded like, "Mental," as he stood up and went to talk to Seamus. Harry looked back at Hermione and said, "Perhaps we should go sit with Matt. Show of support and all that." She nodded and they walked over to where Matt was sitting alone.
They just sat there talking, not trying to draw Matt into their conversation, something for which Matt was grateful. He could always count on them to be there for him, and to understand when he truly wanted to think. Their presence next to him also kept everyone away. Everyone except...
"Hi Harry. Hi Hermione. Hi Matthew," a dreamy voice, seemingly uninterested in anything on the material plane, interrupted Matt's thoughts. He perked up a little.
"Hi Luna," he said, speaking for the first time since he left Professor McGonagall's office. He knew Harry and Hermione were wondering why he spoke to Luna and not them, and, if he was honest with himself, so was he. Something about her serene presence had a calming effect on him. As Luna traipsed off to speak with Parvati and Lavender, Matt joined Harry and Hermione's conversation.
The next day Quirrell's seat at the staff table was empty. No explanation was given except that he was taking part in actions against the staff Code of Conduct. Harry heard a sixth year Hufflepuff lean over to his friend and whisper, "I wonder who it was that he was shagging," while looking around the hall. The friend merely shrugged.
Dumbledore himself took over teaching D.A.D.A., but only until Quirrell's replacement, "was able to free himself from prior engagements," whatever that meant. Approximately three weeks later, during supper, there was a new person sitting at the seat that Quirrell had vacated. The first year Gryffindors couldn't tell who it was, as his or her face was hidden beneath the shadow of their hood. The shadow was unnaturally dark, considering the lighting, signifying that it was magical. This suggested several possible explanations. The most likely was that the person had a flair for the dramatics, though Harry felt that there was a possibility that he didn't want to be recognized, or otherwise seen.
After supper, Professor Dumbledore stood. Every eye shot towards the staff table, conversations stopped mid-syllable. The entire school wanted to know who the mysterious stranger was, as evidenced by the fact that no one had left the Great Hall when they were done eating, which was very odd for a night that there wasn't a feast.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Now, I would like to introduce you to your new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," he paused here."Unfortunately," all across the hall faces fell, "he wanted to do it himself. He actually had it put in his contract, believe it or not," Dumbledore shook his head. Harry wondered for a second if they'd been stuck with Gilderoy Lockhart. Though not as popular in the U.S. as in the U.K., he still had adedicated fan base of middle-aged housewives. He banished the thought the instant he had it. There's no way in hell that Dumbledore would ever hire that pompous, self-important windbag, Harry thought. "So with out further ado--" the headmaster was cut off as an unseen brass section blared. Harry instantly recognized the music. It was the piece that was played in 2001: A Space Odyssey in the beginning, when the Monolith appears to the monkeys. The chair rose slowly, changing into amatte...black...mo...no...lith. Harry suddenly had suspicions as to who the teacher was. He received a dig in the ribs from Matt and a knowing smirk from Hermione, telling him they had the same suspicions. Sure enough...
There was a shrieking wail resembling the sound the monolith made in the movie, and the cloak changed into what resembled a tie-dyed version of the space suit from the movie, and as the wail died out it was replaced with the exclamation, "My God! It's full of staaaarrrrrrssssssss," which got lower and slower towards the end. Suddenly the tie-dye space suit was normal clothing, at least for the person who was now wearing it. Everyone gasped. Not at the magic, though that was all very tricky. No, they gasped at the person now standing at the top of the monolith, a man of average height and build, wearing military fatigues and a lurid orange beret. The man had hazel eyes, and under the beret he had close cropped, but still somehow messy, black hair. He stood at attention, surveying the crowd, which was silent except for three particular Gryffindors snickering quietly. He waved his wand at Harry, who suddenly found himself hanging upside-down by one foot. James Potter, affecting his best Drill Sergeant voice, asked, "Where are you from, boy?"
Harry, having watched Full Metal Jacket with his dad over the break decided to play along. "Missouri, sir," he said, wondering how far his dad would take it.
"They say there's only two things that come outta Missouri, boy. Steers and," he paused, flashing a smile at Harry, "and I don't think the headmaster would appreciate it if I finished that statement."
With that Harry found himself landing in Matt's arms. "My hero!" he said in a breathless voice and pretended to kiss his best friend on the lips. Matt, playing along, dropped Harry on the floor and proceeded to loudly gargle his pumpkin juice, spitting in his own goblet, which was now in front of Harry's plate, as Harry had switched it so that Matt's goblet was in front of Harry's plate, and Harry's was in front of Matt's as soon as he had gotten to his feet. Matt had noticed this and as soon as no one was watching switched them back.
James Potter loudly cleared his throat to silence the sporadic laughter that had spread across the hall, and spoke in a voice that was almost, /almost/, completely scrubbed of the Yorkshire accent he once had, the last traces of it were now mixed in with the barest hints of a southern twang. "I am Lieutenant Colonel James Potter of the United States Army Reserve 1138th Battlemage Division, also known as the Orange Berets. You may not be familiar with us, but we operate out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Army Airborne, better known as the Screaming Eagles. The 1138th is an elite fighting unit that mixes magical and muggle combat techniques, including the use of firearms, and we make your highest-level magical law enforcement division look like the muggle Bobbies. I would compare us to a similar British military force, but the United Kingdoms is one of the few nations that don't have one. But I digress. I'm here to make up for the piss poor--oops, sorry professor,"
"Quite alright, as that is an accurate description of your predecessors quality of work," the headmaster replied.
"Right. As I was saying, I am here to make up for the poor quality of work Professor Quirrell performed. My classes will work at an accelerated pace, as I have less than two terms to teach you what you would normally learn in three terms. I'll take no guff from any of you, and any late assignments will be azero, the only exceptions will be for cases where Madame Pomfrey tells me you were unable to complete your work. Anyone acts up in my class, they will be dealt with by the Black Knight." At this point one of the suits of armor from the castle clanked its way to the front of the hall. It was wielding, instead of the usual axe, sword, mace, or the occasional hammer, what appeared to be a chicken. Yes, achicken; it was plucked, beheaded, and bled out, but otherwise intact. It brandished the bird like it would a club, holding it by the neck in one gauntlet and slapping the heavy end against it's other gauntlet. It was a rather ridiculous sight. Every few seconds it made a vocalization that sounded like 'nih,' in a rather high-pitched voice. While everyone's attention was on the 'Black Knight,' James returned his chair back to normal with a wave of his odd, metallic wand.
After the armor clanked its way out of the hall, Dumbledore called everyone's attention to himself. "That is all for tonight. As I hope you all know, you can leave the hall whenever you want to." And with that the spell was broken. Harry and his friends walked up to Professor Potter, struggling against the flow of bodies.
"So, uh, Professor, that was an interesting spectacle back there," Harry said. "After the first two Kubrick references I half expected you to introduce yourself as Professor Strangelove, or something to that effect."
"Nah. There was no way that anyone besides you three would have gotten that reference. I'm not sure that many of the muggleborns got the references as it is. On a more serious note, I want to talk to you in my office before you head back to your common room." With that he led Harry, Hermione, and Matt to his office.
After they entered the office, he shut the door and cast several privacy charms on it and the surrounding walls. Harry, messing with his dad, silently mouthed, "If your not careful we won't be able to hear you."
Harry's dad shook his head, amused, before turning serious. "Now, as you three know the real circumstances under which Quirrell was sacked, perhaps you should know a little more about what happened after you told McGonagall. They called in a team of Aurors, and managed to subdue Quirrell. Unfortunately, the possessor flew the coop, leaving Quirrell's body adead husk."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Apparently, he was being possessed by Voldemort himself, according to Dumbledore. I thought we were done with him ten years ago, but I thought wrong, obviously. But the point is, Iwanted you to know who it was that had possessed Quirrell. Word is, Matt might receive an award for special services to the school," the new professor said, brightening a little.
"Now the main reason Ihave all the privacy charms in place is that I've heard that a certain group of troublemakers has been giving the entire school musical wake-up calls from time to time. The Marauders never accomplished this feat in their time. Came close a couple of times, but we still didn't figure out those charms until later. Matt, your father had arequest. He sent me this album and said you would know what he was thinking of," Harry's dad handed Matt acopy of the Beatles' 'White Album.' Matt grinned.
After about a half hour of small talk, during which Professor Potter admitted he jumped at the opportunity to be out of the house until his wife was closer to giving birth, he escorted the trio of Gryffindor first years to the Fat Lady's hallway. They went straight to bed.
At 5:55 the next morning,"The Star Spangled Banner" rang from the walls. At 6:05, "No. 9" blared through the school, at one point completely emptying the owlery. The cacophony of the song was so great that the three were tempted to stop it, but the screams of terror they heard made up for it. Finally, to make up for it, they played the song In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida--the full seventeen minute version, not the single version--at 6:15. There were actually more screams caused by the last song than by the second.
That morning the Gryffindors had double potions first thing. Written over the door, in neat calligraphy, was the sentence"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." Harry grinned and wondered how many of his classmates would get that reference. Professor Snape's entrance was subdued compared to normal, almost as if he didn't think he could keep a straight face if he went for his usual dramatics. By the time he was done with roll call he was back to his usual self, unfortunately. On the bright side, Matt actually managed a perfect potion on his first try, for only the third time all year.
After lunch, the Gryffindors, along with the Ravenclaws, had their first lesson with Professor Potter. When they entered they saw a shotgun sitting on the teacher's desk. Harry and Matt instantly recognized it as the gun that Harry's dad used for hunting.
The door opened and closed quietly, and the new professor strode to the front of the room, followed closely by the 'Black Knight,' which was still clutching the chicken. "Listen up," Professor Potter said as he reached the front,"You can call me Professor Potter, or you can call me Colonel. I will try to make this class as fun as possible, but due to time constraints our first priority in this class is to cover the subject manner quickly and thoroughly. I can be your best friend, or I can make Professor Snape seem cuddly by comparison. Your choice. Now when I call roll, I want you to respond with 'Here, sir,' got that?"
Most of the class responded with, "Yes, sir," though a few simply nodded. The 'Black Knight' responded instantly, suddenly holding the chicken as one might hold a rifle, and eggs shot out of the dead and gutted chicken and hit the students who had not said "Yes, sir," right in the middle of their forehead. Luckily they were hard boiled, so no one got egg white in their eyes.
"That's 'yes, /sir/,'understand?" those who had been hit with the eggs nodded, replying in the required manner, and he proceeded to call roll. When he was done he picked up the gun laying on his desk and said, "Now, you may have noticed the shotgun on my desk. Does anyone know why I'm showing it to you?" When no one raised their hand, he looked at Harry and asked, "Do you know? I would think you, of all people should know."
"That's your shotgun,'The Second Amendment,' the one you killed Voldemort with," replied Harry.
Professor Potter tapped the butt of the gun with his wand and gold lettering appeared, forming the words'The Second Amendment.' Everyone gasped, except Harry, Matt, and Hermione, who pointedly let out fake yawns.
"This here stopped the rise of the single most evil being to walk the face of the earth. It's proof that magic is not the be all and end all, so remember that. I, and any subsequent teacher you have, can teach you magic that will be helpful against magic, but there is no foolproof magic that can stop bullets. The human reaction time is just not fast enough. Think of this as a reminder of why we have an International Statute for Secrecy." With that the class began, and it was one of the most difficult single classes of the entire year.
The rest of the year was going to be very difficult indeed.
--
A/N: Yes, I've done away with Quirrell. I realized as I wrote Chapter 8 that I had left out several points where clues to the presence of the Philosopher's Stone should have been. So I decided to do it this way. I could have waited, but I wanted to get it over with. The quote "Abandon hope all ye who enter here," is from one of those epic poems about hell "Dante's Inferno." It was written over the gates of hell. The next chapter will sort of skim over the final months of the school year.
In the unlikely event that anybody reading this is actually a member of the U.S. Army Reserve 1138th Battalion--or Division or whatever it may be called--or knows anybody who is, Ido not actually know what it's specialty is. Rather the number is yet another reference, though not Kubrick. And when I say that the beret was a lurid shade of orange, I mean something along the lines of a traffic cone. The really bright ones at that.
Finally,
Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up and put them in a review, and I'll try to respond to the interesting ones.
A/N: Sorry for the delay. Moving day finally came, and I was caught completely unaware. Honest. As I write this, I'm not sure when I'll get this up. Though, as of 3 March 2008, I've written three 4,000+ word chapters, another 3700+ word chapter, expanded one of the pre-existing chapters of Innocence Faded to 4000+words, made various changes to the rest of Innocence Faded, plotted out a few more chapters. And I've written a 3000 word chapter for Without You.
Now for some actual story related notes. First, the Monty Python reference I threw into Chapter 4 was the wood Hermione's wand was made of, combined with the fact that it was the second wand she tried. I referenced the sketch "How to recognize trees from quite a ways away." Obviously no one got it. Second, there is no second note. Third, no poofters. (Plays laugh track) God this is a long author's note. As usual.
Chapter 10: The"Eyes" Have It
The day turned out not nearly as good as they thought it would be. First, in Potions, Matt managed to make the stuff they put inside Stretch Armstrong. Then, in History of Magic, Professor Binns shocked everybody by giving his first pop-quiz in almost 300 years.
Harry was sitting down to lunch next to Hermione, across from Matt and Ron, and as he reached for the last slice of ham, Hermione reached in and got it before he did.
"Hey, I wanted that!" Harry cried petulantly.
"'Tough titty,' said the kitty, 'the milk's all gone,'" Hermione replied. Matt sniggered.
Ron, once he got over the shock of what he just heard, said, "Still, I'd like to find out for myse--" He was unable to finish that statement after Matt's backhand. Ron tumbled off of the bench and the unmistakable klunk of a skull on stone was heard
"Watch your mouth," Matt said. He then looked down and noticed the dazed look on Ron's face and sprang into triage mode. "Now, are you feeling dizzy or sick to your stomach? Perhaps disoriented? Do you know what day it is?"
"Uhh, I don't know what today is. I am feeling alittle sick, and how am I supposed know if I'm disoriented or not if I'm not even sure where I am." Ron said while trying to uncross his eyes, and failing miserably.
"You've probably got aconcussion. C'mon, let's go see Madame Pomfrey." With that the two of them went to the hospital wing.
Neville, who had been watching the whole exchange, asked, "What was that you said, Hermione, about a cat and her, er..."
Harry answered for her. "Oh, that? That was just some saying that Matt's grandma uses. It's sort of a long way of saying 'too bad,' or 'tough luck.' That wasn't even the best response I've heard. The best was one Sirius, my godfather, had. He leaned over to my dad and whispered 'I think we all guessed that already,' after Matt's grandma said it."
"So that's why Uncle Theon backhanded Sirius at Christmas. I was wondering. Like father, like son I guess," Hermione responded.
After lunch was Double Defense against the Dark Arts. The lesson was sub par even by Quirrell's already low standards. Matt, Harry, and Hermione weren't paying attention, however. They had figured out in the first month that Quirrell made things unnecessarily complicated and the book was all they really needed to pay attention to in order to understand the subject--not that it helped them in class, since no one seemed to get good grades in D.A.D.A. Unfortunately, near the end of the lesson Quirrell called on Matt for an answer to a question. He looked up...straight into Quirrell's eyes.
What he saw nearly made him scream, but he clamped down on that impulse. He was thankful that his face never showed much emotion, otherwise instead of the slight nervousness he knew most people would read in his expression, sheer terror would be plain for all to see. What he saw in Quirrell's eyes was this: two souls, one black as hell at night, disfigured and...and /stunted/, the other withering, dying, and black, though not nearly as black as the other one. It was as if the stunted one was killing the other one, forcing it out of the body. Luckily the bell rang just then, and Matt was able to reach the door before anyone else.
Harry and Hermione rushed to catch up, but despite their longer legs Matt was faster. They finally caught up to him as he slowed to a stop in front of the Transfiguration room. "Why did you take off like a bat out of hell back there?" Harry asked as he caught his breath. Matt was barely short of breath.
"Quirrell. He's got two souls in him. One is blacker than black--so black that if Einstein is right and the universe really is circular, it'd come back around as white several times before finally settling down on black--disfigured and stunted. It's pure evil. The other is merely as black as the dark side of the moon. I'm not sure which one was his, but either way, we got a dark wizard teaching us Defense. Conflict of interest, don't ya think?"
They caught Professor McGonagall as she was exiting her classroom. "Professor, we really need to talk to you. It's a matter of school security," Hermione said as they walked up.
"Very well, please follow me to my office," the Professor said, as if humoring them, obviously believing that there was nothing that three first years could say that was of any consequence to the security of the school.
As soon as the door shut, Matt immediately said, "Quirrell is possessed. At least I think he is, I don't know what half of the stuff Isee means, bu-"
"Possessed? What you see? What are you talking about?!" a flustered Professor McGonagall sputtered at the boy currently staring at his shoes. Wordlessly, he looked up, into her eyes, and she felt as if he wasn't looking at her, rather he was looking inside her, at...at her /soul/! She'd never been this uncomfortable in her entire life. He looked down again.
When she finally managed to find her voice, she asked, "Mr. Robertson, you wouldn't happen to be a soul reader, by any chance, would you?" He nodded. "That explains a lot, but what makes you think Quirrell is possessed?" Matt just stood there, staring at his shoes.
Harry noticed Matt's discomfort, and spoke up, "Allow me, Professor. He told me and Hermione what he saw, and he can correct me if he feels the need. We were in Defense, near the end of the period, when Quirrell asked Matt aquestion..." Harry, with occasional input from Hermione, proceeded to explain what happened, and what Matt had told them.
Professor McGonagall was very grim-faced by the end of the tale. "Very well, I shall be taking this to Dumbledore at once. You should hurry up to Gryffindor Tower until Quirrell has been dealt with. Food will be sent to you.
Shortly after the trio reached the common room the announcement that students were to return to their dormitories rang from the walls. The portraits however, did not seem to notice it. Neither did Nearly Headless Nick, who was having a rather heated argument with a portrait of...himself?
"Hey, Nick, You do know that arguing with yourself is a sign of insanity right? Particularly if you find yourself losing the argument," Harry quipped to the partially decapitated ghost. Nearly Headless Nick merely glided into a wall, muttering to himself what sounded suspiciously like a monologue about a dead parrot that Harry had heard his dad quoting to Sirius once. Harry shrugged, and proceeded to attack the food on the table that had just appeared in the middle of the common room.
By the time the rest of Gryffindor had arrived, Matt had clammed up and was barely eating. Harry made his way over to where Hermione was sitting and sat next to her. "I hope we aren't locked up in here too long. I think Matt needs to see Madame Pomfrey. He's really shook up," he said, looking over to where his best friend sat alone.
As he watched, Ron went over to try to talk to him. He didn't have much success in getting Matt to talk, so he came over to where Harry and Hermione were sitting. He sat on the other side of Hermione. "Sorry about what I said at lunch. I wasn't thinking," he said to Hermione.
"And that's any different from normal because...?" Hermione replied, somewhere between irritation and amusement.
"Oi! I'm trying to apologize and all you do is insult me! What's up with that?" Ron exclaimed.
Harry, who had chuckled at Hermione's comment, roared with laughter at Ron's reaction. After he composed himself, he said, "Dude, that mean's she accepted your apology. If she says she accepts your apology she's only humoring you, usually because she doesn't think it's necessary, though sometimes because she's still carrying a minor grudge. If she's really angry, then she won't say anything. That's when you should run." This earned him slap in the back of the head. He looked at her and grinned.
Ron shook his head, muttering what sounded like, "Mental," as he stood up and went to talk to Seamus. Harry looked back at Hermione and said, "Perhaps we should go sit with Matt. Show of support and all that." She nodded and they walked over to where Matt was sitting alone.
They just sat there talking, not trying to draw Matt into their conversation, something for which Matt was grateful. He could always count on them to be there for him, and to understand when he truly wanted to think. Their presence next to him also kept everyone away. Everyone except...
"Hi Harry. Hi Hermione. Hi Matthew," a dreamy voice, seemingly uninterested in anything on the material plane, interrupted Matt's thoughts. He perked up a little.
"Hi Luna," he said, speaking for the first time since he left Professor McGonagall's office. He knew Harry and Hermione were wondering why he spoke to Luna and not them, and, if he was honest with himself, so was he. Something about her serene presence had a calming effect on him. As Luna traipsed off to speak with Parvati and Lavender, Matt joined Harry and Hermione's conversation.
The next day Quirrell's seat at the staff table was empty. No explanation was given except that he was taking part in actions against the staff Code of Conduct. Harry heard a sixth year Hufflepuff lean over to his friend and whisper, "I wonder who it was that he was shagging," while looking around the hall. The friend merely shrugged.
Dumbledore himself took over teaching D.A.D.A., but only until Quirrell's replacement, "was able to free himself from prior engagements," whatever that meant. Approximately three weeks later, during supper, there was a new person sitting at the seat that Quirrell had vacated. The first year Gryffindors couldn't tell who it was, as his or her face was hidden beneath the shadow of their hood. The shadow was unnaturally dark, considering the lighting, signifying that it was magical. This suggested several possible explanations. The most likely was that the person had a flair for the dramatics, though Harry felt that there was a possibility that he didn't want to be recognized, or otherwise seen.
After supper, Professor Dumbledore stood. Every eye shot towards the staff table, conversations stopped mid-syllable. The entire school wanted to know who the mysterious stranger was, as evidenced by the fact that no one had left the Great Hall when they were done eating, which was very odd for a night that there wasn't a feast.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Now, I would like to introduce you to your new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," he paused here."Unfortunately," all across the hall faces fell, "he wanted to do it himself. He actually had it put in his contract, believe it or not," Dumbledore shook his head. Harry wondered for a second if they'd been stuck with Gilderoy Lockhart. Though not as popular in the U.S. as in the U.K., he still had adedicated fan base of middle-aged housewives. He banished the thought the instant he had it. There's no way in hell that Dumbledore would ever hire that pompous, self-important windbag, Harry thought. "So with out further ado--" the headmaster was cut off as an unseen brass section blared. Harry instantly recognized the music. It was the piece that was played in 2001: A Space Odyssey in the beginning, when the Monolith appears to the monkeys. The chair rose slowly, changing into amatte...black...mo...no...lith. Harry suddenly had suspicions as to who the teacher was. He received a dig in the ribs from Matt and a knowing smirk from Hermione, telling him they had the same suspicions. Sure enough...
There was a shrieking wail resembling the sound the monolith made in the movie, and the cloak changed into what resembled a tie-dyed version of the space suit from the movie, and as the wail died out it was replaced with the exclamation, "My God! It's full of staaaarrrrrrssssssss," which got lower and slower towards the end. Suddenly the tie-dye space suit was normal clothing, at least for the person who was now wearing it. Everyone gasped. Not at the magic, though that was all very tricky. No, they gasped at the person now standing at the top of the monolith, a man of average height and build, wearing military fatigues and a lurid orange beret. The man had hazel eyes, and under the beret he had close cropped, but still somehow messy, black hair. He stood at attention, surveying the crowd, which was silent except for three particular Gryffindors snickering quietly. He waved his wand at Harry, who suddenly found himself hanging upside-down by one foot. James Potter, affecting his best Drill Sergeant voice, asked, "Where are you from, boy?"
Harry, having watched Full Metal Jacket with his dad over the break decided to play along. "Missouri, sir," he said, wondering how far his dad would take it.
"They say there's only two things that come outta Missouri, boy. Steers and," he paused, flashing a smile at Harry, "and I don't think the headmaster would appreciate it if I finished that statement."
With that Harry found himself landing in Matt's arms. "My hero!" he said in a breathless voice and pretended to kiss his best friend on the lips. Matt, playing along, dropped Harry on the floor and proceeded to loudly gargle his pumpkin juice, spitting in his own goblet, which was now in front of Harry's plate, as Harry had switched it so that Matt's goblet was in front of Harry's plate, and Harry's was in front of Matt's as soon as he had gotten to his feet. Matt had noticed this and as soon as no one was watching switched them back.
James Potter loudly cleared his throat to silence the sporadic laughter that had spread across the hall, and spoke in a voice that was almost, /almost/, completely scrubbed of the Yorkshire accent he once had, the last traces of it were now mixed in with the barest hints of a southern twang. "I am Lieutenant Colonel James Potter of the United States Army Reserve 1138th Battlemage Division, also known as the Orange Berets. You may not be familiar with us, but we operate out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Army Airborne, better known as the Screaming Eagles. The 1138th is an elite fighting unit that mixes magical and muggle combat techniques, including the use of firearms, and we make your highest-level magical law enforcement division look like the muggle Bobbies. I would compare us to a similar British military force, but the United Kingdoms is one of the few nations that don't have one. But I digress. I'm here to make up for the piss poor--oops, sorry professor,"
"Quite alright, as that is an accurate description of your predecessors quality of work," the headmaster replied.
"Right. As I was saying, I am here to make up for the poor quality of work Professor Quirrell performed. My classes will work at an accelerated pace, as I have less than two terms to teach you what you would normally learn in three terms. I'll take no guff from any of you, and any late assignments will be azero, the only exceptions will be for cases where Madame Pomfrey tells me you were unable to complete your work. Anyone acts up in my class, they will be dealt with by the Black Knight." At this point one of the suits of armor from the castle clanked its way to the front of the hall. It was wielding, instead of the usual axe, sword, mace, or the occasional hammer, what appeared to be a chicken. Yes, achicken; it was plucked, beheaded, and bled out, but otherwise intact. It brandished the bird like it would a club, holding it by the neck in one gauntlet and slapping the heavy end against it's other gauntlet. It was a rather ridiculous sight. Every few seconds it made a vocalization that sounded like 'nih,' in a rather high-pitched voice. While everyone's attention was on the 'Black Knight,' James returned his chair back to normal with a wave of his odd, metallic wand.
After the armor clanked its way out of the hall, Dumbledore called everyone's attention to himself. "That is all for tonight. As I hope you all know, you can leave the hall whenever you want to." And with that the spell was broken. Harry and his friends walked up to Professor Potter, struggling against the flow of bodies.
"So, uh, Professor, that was an interesting spectacle back there," Harry said. "After the first two Kubrick references I half expected you to introduce yourself as Professor Strangelove, or something to that effect."
"Nah. There was no way that anyone besides you three would have gotten that reference. I'm not sure that many of the muggleborns got the references as it is. On a more serious note, I want to talk to you in my office before you head back to your common room." With that he led Harry, Hermione, and Matt to his office.
After they entered the office, he shut the door and cast several privacy charms on it and the surrounding walls. Harry, messing with his dad, silently mouthed, "If your not careful we won't be able to hear you."
Harry's dad shook his head, amused, before turning serious. "Now, as you three know the real circumstances under which Quirrell was sacked, perhaps you should know a little more about what happened after you told McGonagall. They called in a team of Aurors, and managed to subdue Quirrell. Unfortunately, the possessor flew the coop, leaving Quirrell's body adead husk."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Apparently, he was being possessed by Voldemort himself, according to Dumbledore. I thought we were done with him ten years ago, but I thought wrong, obviously. But the point is, Iwanted you to know who it was that had possessed Quirrell. Word is, Matt might receive an award for special services to the school," the new professor said, brightening a little.
"Now the main reason Ihave all the privacy charms in place is that I've heard that a certain group of troublemakers has been giving the entire school musical wake-up calls from time to time. The Marauders never accomplished this feat in their time. Came close a couple of times, but we still didn't figure out those charms until later. Matt, your father had arequest. He sent me this album and said you would know what he was thinking of," Harry's dad handed Matt acopy of the Beatles' 'White Album.' Matt grinned.
After about a half hour of small talk, during which Professor Potter admitted he jumped at the opportunity to be out of the house until his wife was closer to giving birth, he escorted the trio of Gryffindor first years to the Fat Lady's hallway. They went straight to bed.
At 5:55 the next morning,"The Star Spangled Banner" rang from the walls. At 6:05, "No. 9" blared through the school, at one point completely emptying the owlery. The cacophony of the song was so great that the three were tempted to stop it, but the screams of terror they heard made up for it. Finally, to make up for it, they played the song In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida--the full seventeen minute version, not the single version--at 6:15. There were actually more screams caused by the last song than by the second.
That morning the Gryffindors had double potions first thing. Written over the door, in neat calligraphy, was the sentence"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." Harry grinned and wondered how many of his classmates would get that reference. Professor Snape's entrance was subdued compared to normal, almost as if he didn't think he could keep a straight face if he went for his usual dramatics. By the time he was done with roll call he was back to his usual self, unfortunately. On the bright side, Matt actually managed a perfect potion on his first try, for only the third time all year.
After lunch, the Gryffindors, along with the Ravenclaws, had their first lesson with Professor Potter. When they entered they saw a shotgun sitting on the teacher's desk. Harry and Matt instantly recognized it as the gun that Harry's dad used for hunting.
The door opened and closed quietly, and the new professor strode to the front of the room, followed closely by the 'Black Knight,' which was still clutching the chicken. "Listen up," Professor Potter said as he reached the front,"You can call me Professor Potter, or you can call me Colonel. I will try to make this class as fun as possible, but due to time constraints our first priority in this class is to cover the subject manner quickly and thoroughly. I can be your best friend, or I can make Professor Snape seem cuddly by comparison. Your choice. Now when I call roll, I want you to respond with 'Here, sir,' got that?"
Most of the class responded with, "Yes, sir," though a few simply nodded. The 'Black Knight' responded instantly, suddenly holding the chicken as one might hold a rifle, and eggs shot out of the dead and gutted chicken and hit the students who had not said "Yes, sir," right in the middle of their forehead. Luckily they were hard boiled, so no one got egg white in their eyes.
"That's 'yes, /sir/,'understand?" those who had been hit with the eggs nodded, replying in the required manner, and he proceeded to call roll. When he was done he picked up the gun laying on his desk and said, "Now, you may have noticed the shotgun on my desk. Does anyone know why I'm showing it to you?" When no one raised their hand, he looked at Harry and asked, "Do you know? I would think you, of all people should know."
"That's your shotgun,'The Second Amendment,' the one you killed Voldemort with," replied Harry.
Professor Potter tapped the butt of the gun with his wand and gold lettering appeared, forming the words'The Second Amendment.' Everyone gasped, except Harry, Matt, and Hermione, who pointedly let out fake yawns.
"This here stopped the rise of the single most evil being to walk the face of the earth. It's proof that magic is not the be all and end all, so remember that. I, and any subsequent teacher you have, can teach you magic that will be helpful against magic, but there is no foolproof magic that can stop bullets. The human reaction time is just not fast enough. Think of this as a reminder of why we have an International Statute for Secrecy." With that the class began, and it was one of the most difficult single classes of the entire year.
The rest of the year was going to be very difficult indeed.
--
A/N: Yes, I've done away with Quirrell. I realized as I wrote Chapter 8 that I had left out several points where clues to the presence of the Philosopher's Stone should have been. So I decided to do it this way. I could have waited, but I wanted to get it over with. The quote "Abandon hope all ye who enter here," is from one of those epic poems about hell "Dante's Inferno." It was written over the gates of hell. The next chapter will sort of skim over the final months of the school year.
In the unlikely event that anybody reading this is actually a member of the U.S. Army Reserve 1138th Battalion--or Division or whatever it may be called--or knows anybody who is, Ido not actually know what it's specialty is. Rather the number is yet another reference, though not Kubrick. And when I say that the beret was a lurid shade of orange, I mean something along the lines of a traffic cone. The really bright ones at that.
Finally,
Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up and put them in a review, and I'll try to respond to the interesting ones.
Sign up to rate and review this story