Ch.40

She was no Madam Spurl, but Babbling had convinced Harry to remain in her class. Yes, the good material was years off. But it was tantalizing enough that he could be patient.

She explained how the class would run and what the assignments would be like. The only one that sounds interesting was the year project. Well, Harry also had his rubbings from the wreckage of Godric's Hall, but that might be better as a private project. Or something to pass a few hours in the library.

What would Harry do for a public project?

Professor Babbling ended the class. A few of the students looked unsure of remaining. The rest seemed excited. Harry would wait and see about who stayed.

Harry put his textbook away in his bag and left with Hermione and Neville. Ron had been about the first person out the door. Harry wondered if Ron would drop. He had signed up for three classes and hinted he would only do two of them...

Harry felt something impact his cheek. It exploded and then everything was covered in green. Green goop, green ink, something. It smelled horrible.

"Peeves," Hermione shrieked.

Harry whipped around looking for that demented poltergeist.

"Rotty Potty hasn't paid the rent... Rotty Potty got his skull bent... Rotty Potty paid up one hundred percent... Rotty Potty was such a good gent... Rotty Potty watched where he went... Rotty Potty happiness to his friends lent... Otherwise, Rotty Potty won't like how I vent..."

Peeves had set his demands to song.

Harry flushed when he thought of what that horrible toe-rag wanted. Zapping him and making an ooze everywhere. Disgusting.

Harry didn't have a class the next period so he went and showered, then took himself to the library. He needed something to keep that poltergeist away.

He even asked Madam Pince for help. Could she have scowled any more?

Charms, no.

The defense texts that referenced spirits were useless.

There was a reference in one book to a rune that might help.

But Harry couldn't find the actual rune to use, of course. The library was filled to the brim with books about, and written in, runes. Harry could not yet read any form of runes. He felt like an infant given a book in a language with letters he couldn't name or sound out.

He wondered if Hermione could help. But she too was a new student of Ancient Runes... Madam Pince would be no use. She already wanted to throw Harry out. What a dried heart didn't beat in her chest.

....

Hermione didn't have to drag Harry to the Gryffindor family room this evening. While it was Saturday night and the end of the first week of classes, she had people lining up for the first lecture of her series. She had struck early with the first one. She'd probably spent all summer lining up speakers, Harry thought.

She had never seemed so pleased or so calm, in an overall sense. She had been nervy earlier about who would show up and if the lecture would go off. But she wasn't nattering on about books. She was more interested in what certain people might tell her, specifically things that didn't get written down and handed about.

She stood at the front of the front of the room next to an old man and a slightly younger one. Both were older than Professor Snape or their new Defense teacher, an Auror called Proudfoot.

The older of the two was taller than Harry would ever manage and had hair that was as dark as Padfoot's. So he was hale even at his age, though his face was lined like some pen and ink illustration in a book. He stood very straight and tall and had a glance that said he was stern.

Hermione took a step forward to settle the room and introduce him. The man laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. Hermione took her seat at the front. Harry had tried for the front this time, but had arrived only early enough to get the third row. The room was filled with a few standing in the back and several at the sides. Mr. Weasley's talk last year had set expectations high, with all of the secrets of the Ministry he'd discussed.

"My name is Oliver Fanthorpe Sundown," the old man said. He spoke in a loud, clear voice, neither Hagrid-booming nor Flitwick-thin.

"I graduated as a Gryffindor about eighty-five years ago. I fought in a war in France, the Netherlands, and Germany. I served in the Ministry for many years. But I spent the last forty some years competing on the dueling circuit and serving as a referee. I retired as a duelist eighteen years ago and as a professional referee three years ago."

Harry was still surprised that Hermione had selected a duelist for the first class. It was brilliant, Harry thought. Hermione would have every male Gryffindor who didn't attend tonight kicking himself. Though she'd probably have something that would appeal more to the girls for the next class.

"Tonight, I came to teach you some things about dueling that you may not know and certainly won't learn from books. A duel is not all about settling matters of honor, first off. It's mostly an entertainment these days. The non-magicals have boxing and other events. We have spectator duels, though they are losing out in popularity to events like Quidditch. So, for your education, I came to show you dueling. I won't ask anyone to volunteer. I brought my own." He nodded to the younger man at the front of the room. "My youngest son, who came with me to assist in a demonstration or two, is called Oliver Bysthorpe Sundown."

The room tittered at the name that was almost identical to his father's.

"Yes, I do come from a very old family. No, I don't follow much tradition, though I couldn't do anything about this damned name Oliver we saddle on all the males in the line."

He stepped up on an elevated stage. "This is a platform, not quite the right size for a professional match. But close. Now we'll erect some shields. We are not using spells to do this. We are using enchanted materials."

Harry watched as the son pulled massive panels of fabric out of a rather small case. It was brilliant how they self-enlarged. Harry wondered what such a thing was, that case – and where he could get one. What all could one stuff inside it? Just these panels or other things...

.....

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