Chapter 33: Year Two - Chapter Eight
Professor Flitwick listened to me. True to form, the half-goblin did not grab a war-ax merely because he wasn't allowed to. He was a great Charms-Master, but being half-goblin, I reckoned he had gone through some tough stuff as a child at Hogwarts too. "It's just, I don't want it to be a public shaming," I continued, "If that happens, then children will just double-down afterwards. It's better to take them one by one and speak with them privately."
"I know Mister Umbrus, rest assured that I do indeed know," he sighed as he said that, "It hurts my heart to think my Ravens would do something like that. We are the house that should be better suited in taking care of our oddities." He slumped his head ever so slightly. "Ah, where did I go wrong? I suppose I'll need to be extra careful with my first years."
"Children will be children," I muttered. "Most often, they don't realize how harmful their words are. They see something strange, something different, and they pick on it." I shook my head. "One needs a certain level of wisdom to accept the different as such, and not as something harmful, or to be torn to shreds." I smiled ever so gently. "By the same token, a honest approach yields the best results."
I glanced at the cupcakes' drawer. "Does that earn me a dancing cupcake, professor?"
Professor Flitwick laughed at that, and nodded. A cupcake danced its way out of the drawer and onto the surface of his desk, and as I watched it dance, I waited for a while before extending my hand and watching it float into my palm. "That's...Mister Umbrus, I suppose there is no stopping a determined young Raven from practicing whatever he wishes in his free time," Flitwick mused, "Then I suppose I'll be giving thirty points to Ravenclaw. Ten for bringing the matter to my attention, and twenty for such a display."
I beamed a bigger smile at professor Flitwick. "Thank you professor," I said. "I wanted to ask a few questions concerning wandless magic, if that was possible. I understand it's weaker than without a wand, but are there other limits? Can I transfigure things by touch alone? Are there some charms that come off easily and others that don't? I've tried throwing a Flipendo but-"
As I excitedly babbled on, Professor Flitwick took his time to give me various answers. As long as it dealt with pulling and pushing, normally wandless magic worked just as fine. By the very same token, trying more complex spells normally required either a great deal of practice, or a wand. Something interesting he mentioned was that there were various ways of using a charm. One could whisper the words in the closed palm of one's hand, and then throw it, or keep the wand hidden behind someone's back while still letting the spell depart from one's fingers.
There were a lot of dueling tricks that the professor knew of, and as I asked him for some books...he gave me a ten feet long parchment filled with titles.
"Mister Umbrus," Professor Flitwick said as I was about to leave, "You will not be using any of this against your fellow students, I would hope."
"Well, I wanted to restart the dueling club, professor," I answered back, "Maybe not this year, but...I think it's better to read ahead."
The professor somehow accepted my words, and watched me leave. He'd deal with the first year bullies by his next lesson, I reckoned. This gave me ample time. It gave me ample time to witness Gilderoy Lockhart's DADA lesson and his impromptu test on his favorite color. "Ah, I remember when I was in Ravenclaw, prefect and head boy!" he swooned about it, moving graciously through the class while twirling a lock of hair, staring at his painting by the desk. "The most charming there ever was," he winked in our direction.
Both he and the painting winked at us in tandem.
I wanted to burn the painting down. I needed to learn how to wordlessly throw an Incendio the way of the painting. It was the only way to make sure such blight would not spread, and I wouldn't be forced to lose my house points. What I feared was the slightly shaking bird cage covered in a thick cloth. "Now, as you may or may not have been told, the class before you dealt with the terrifying threat of..." he swung the cloth aside, "Cornish Pixies!"
The blue devils shrieked loudly at us, trying to extend their fingers in order grab at the first rows' students. I quietly got my hand on my wand. "I have dealt with them egregiously too," he continued on, breaking off in a shining smile. "But rather than have you deal with them, since I'm Gilderoy Lockhart and would never do something so tacky as let my class do something twice, you will simply have to draw your best sketch of myself facing the pixies off. Go with your imagination-"
As soon as he said that, I stared in disbelief at the professor. The students by my side actually split in two categories. Those who eagerly got to the job, which keenly had most Slytherins, willing to ignore the stupidity of it all, and some Ravenclaw girls with glazed-over eyes from the man's heroic fame. I, and most other Ravenclaws, were starting to feel quite perturbed by it all.
My drawing skills were non-existent to begin with, so I didn't even bother.
I instead began to scribble down a few choice words about our professor, and then quietly threw the piece of paper behind me.
Gilderoy, real or fake? Narcissistic pompous git or absolute moron? Polls are open. Pass around.
The Ravenclaw who got my note snickered and then as I heard the snickers change places and directions, I knew the message was actually being shared. I remained dutifully silent, quietly pondering to myself about how to best undermine the conman without actually removing him from his office until the very end.
"He actually gave me an Outstanding for not drawing anything," I whispered in awe at the sheer stupidity of the man as I walked out of there, Amanda staring at me as if I had grown a second head. "Saying 'Your greatness is too great for paper alone, professor! I couldn't possibly diminish your greatness like that!' was enough." I shook my head in disbelief. "Frigging impossible."
Amanda simply chuckled. "Why didn't I think of that? He gave me an Acceptable because I was...a cute little fan." She slumped her shoulders. "Sheesh."
As we walked our way towards our next lesson, I watched Amanda move to the windows, and push herself dangerously past the edge. Thus, I did the natural thing and grabbed hold of the scruff of her robe with a tired sigh. "Have we mastered the cushioning charm, Miss Brocklehurst?"
"H-Hey!" Amanda grumbled, "That's the first thing I learned." She huffed.
"Very well," I let her go, and glanced down myself. "Oh, Quidditch practices, uh." The Quidditch pitch in the far distance had people flying around it.
"You doing anything on Saturday morning?" Amanda asked.
"Sleeping?" I retorted. "Until noon at the very least?" That was a lie. I'd probably be awake and into my zone of practicing till I dropped.
"Then you're not doing anything important," Amanda said. "Let's get Wayne and Megan and spy on the Gryffindors' practicing." She grinned like a shark. "When I get into the team, I'll know how to fight them on the pitch."
"Such a devious little Raven," I mused, before sighing. "Very well," I quipped. "But don't push yourself too much past the window's edge, will you? All it takes is a moment of distraction-"
"Yes, dad," she rolled her eyes. "So speaks the one who gives bread to the giant squid."
"Squiddie is a gentle and caring creature of love, and I'd hug her if she were at a more manageable size," I retorted flatly. "Also, I always know what I'm doing when dealing with dangerous things, so I can do them."
Amanda snickered, and shook her head.
Why, these young children, refuting the wisdom of their elders...
...practice what I say, not what I do.
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