Chapter 17- Grishelda Grendelhall
“And then he said I can’t read it until I’m better at Occlumency,” said Harry as he stripped the bark from a tree branch during their Care of Magical Creatures class the next day. They were studying Narflaps”small, hedgehog type creatures that had magical properties and ate wood. Apparently they didn’t like the bark, so Hagrid had given each student a stack of branches to strip.
“Harry, I don’t believe it! I mean, you actually read a book written by Rowena Ravenclaw!” Hermione gasped in awe. “I’m so jealous! I can’t think of one other person in history whose diary I would rather read. I mean, she was brilliant! The most educated and intelligent of the founders. Did you know she lived to be 194 years…”
“I told you, he didn’t let me read it, he only showed it to me,” Harry interrupted. “I guess he’s going to test me next week and if I can hide the memory then he’ll let me read it.” Harry’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on removing an especially resilient piece of bark. While Dumbledore had asked him not to tell anyone about the headmaster’s Vault, he hadn’t forbidden him from telling Ron and Hermione about Ravenclaw’s diary. Hermione had reacted to the news with a strange combination of fascination, enthusiasm, and resentment. Ron, on the other hand, had been mostly quiet.
“Well you’ll just have to practice extra hard this week, won’t you,” Hermione replied bossily as she worked on stripping her own branch. Harry could tell she was even more anxious than he was to find out what was in Ravenclaw’s diary”It was probably torture for her to not be able to see the book and read it for herself. The thought gave him a smug sort of satisfaction.
“I will.” Harry replied. He looked at Ron, who seemed to be paying attention to the discussion but hadn’t said anything. “What’s with you? You’ve been quiet all morning.”
Ron looked up. “Oh, I…uh…”
“Ron has some news of his own,” Hermione interjected with a broad smile on her face. “Go on, tell him.”
“Well, this morning McGonagall called me in and, uh…made me Quidditch captain,” he said tentatively, a look of repressed excitement on his face.
Harry was surprised. Was that what had been on Ron’s mind all morning? Quidditch? Harry longed for the days when Quidditch was all he had to worry about. Compared to learning Occlumency, discovering Wulfric Gryffindor, and dealing with the most evil wizard in the past century, Quidditch seemed like a small, trivial matter, a luxury he hadn’t the time for. Realizing Ron was waiting for a reaction, he replied in what he hoped was enthusiasm.
“That’s great! You’ll be brilliant.”
“I thought it was going to be you, I really did,” Ron replied soberly, looking relieved that Harry wasn’t upset. “I mean, you’ve been on the team since first year, and I’ve only been on since last year.”
“Yeah but you know loads more about strategy and positioning, you’ve been following Quidditch your whole life. When I got here I didn’t even know what a Quaffle was. You’ll be brilliant, congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Ron said with a sheepish smile, looking more confident and at ease than he had all morning. They skinned their branches in silence for a few minutes until Hermione piped up excitedly.
“I almost forgot! I found something about the Half-Blood Prince. I was checking through the library for any books that might mention Godric Gryffindor or the Half-Blood Prince and I found this in Ancient Legends and Myths.”
Apparently Hermione had memorized whatever she had found, for she put down her piece of wood, cleared her throat importantly and recited: “While little is known about Wulfric Gryffindor, the son of renowned Hogwarts founder Godric Gryffindor, legend says he is the key to an item of tremendous power, supposedly buried in his tomb. The whereabouts of the tomb or the nature of the item are unknown, though goblin legend holds that they were hidden to keep the secret safe from enemies.”
“So this guy Wulfric is buried somewhere with an item of tremendous power, and if we find him we will be able to win the war?” Ron reasoned out loud.
“That’s what the book says, though it may not be accurate. This was from Ancient Legends and Myths, remember? Chances are it’s just that”a myth. It may not even exist,” said Hermione.
“I don’t know, a lot of people thought that about the Chamber of Secrets, and it turned out to be real, didn’t it?” said Harry thoughtfully. “If it is, I wonder what the ‘item’ is, and why it’s so powerful. Also, why does it say it’s a goblin legend? Didn’t Gryffindor fight against the goblins?”
“Yes, he led the wizards against the goblins during the first goblin wars in 1014. I don’t know why the goblins would have a legend about a Gryffindor though,” Hermione replied thoughtfully.
The trio remained silent for a while, each contemplating what they had just heard. Suddenly Ron spoke up.
“Maybe the goblins kidnapped Wulfric,” he reasoned excitedly. “You know, to get back at Gryffindor for all the trouble he caused? And maybe they stole something at the same time, like some powerful artifact or monster or something. It sounds like something they would do,” he finished bitterly. Apparently Ron was still upset about Bill losing his job.
“I don’t know, it sounds rather sketchy…” Hermione replied. “I mean, we don’t even know if the book is accurate. I’ll see what else I can find. Harry, you’ll just have to work on your Occlumency really hard,” she said, jabbing her finger into his chest. The look on her face was eerily similar to McGonagall. “This is important, so don’t distract him with Quidditch, Ron.”
***
After lunch they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of all his classes, this was the one Harry was looking forward to the most. He just hoped this year they would have a competent teacher.
As they entered the room Harry was surprised to see a number of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students sitting at the tables. Typically they had had Defense Against the Dark Arts with their own houses, though he supposed that NEWT level classes were different. Many of the students had been a part of Dumbledore’s Army the year before: Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Zacharias Smith were all there, as was (Harry noticed with displeasure) Anthony Goldstein. Perhaps most surprising, in the very back of the room sat four Slytherins: two girls Harry had seen before but didn’t know their names, a short, husky boy named Thadius Rentley, and Theodore Nott, the tall lanky Slytherin whose father was a Death-Eater. The four looked a little intimidated at being in a class full of students from other houses, though Nott and Rentley tried to hide it under a look of disdain.
“What’s Nott doing here?” Ron whispered with distaste as they made their way to an empty table near the front of the class. “It’s him and his mates we’re learning to protect ourselves from. He should be in ‘ Offense with the Dark Arts,’ not the other way around.”
Harry shrugged, though he was wondering the same thing. Maybe not all the Slytherins agreed with the Death Eaters. Or they were here to spy on them, let Voldemort and his cronies know what defensive techniques Dumbledore was teaching so they could more effectively overcome them. The latter seemed more likely.
As they took their seats Harry looked around the room. The walls were covered in charts and diagrams that illustrated various defensive techniques. Some he recognized immediately: a wizard casting the Expelliarmus spell; a short, dumpy witch practicing a Shield charm”but other showed spells he hadn’t seen yet. He was in the middle of studying one where the wizard was turning his opponent into a basset hound, when the front door opened and Professor Grendelhall walked into the room.
Professor Grendelhall was a thin, wiry old witch who looked like she had been through quite a bit of wear over the years. Her hair was thin, wispy, and wild, springing out from her old head as if it had a mind of its own. Her face was extremely wrinkled and she had a long yet bulbous nose that sprung out of her face like a unicorn’s horn. A couple of long scars streaked over her face. Ron had been right”she did look like a female Mad-Eye Moody. Looking at her eyes to see if perchance false eyes were common among the older aurors, Harry was relieved to see two perfectly normal, bright eyes peeping out of her wrinkled head. All she needed was a crazy eye and a wooden leg and she and Moody would make a charming couple…
“All right, all right, you’re in class now, so stop the chattering,” she said in a voice that was old and croaky, yet had a definite girlish tone to it. The comment seemed strange, as no one in the room had been talking. “I am Professor Grendelhall, and this is NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts.” She walked towards a desk placed in the front of the room. Harry could tell the other students were sizing her up, not knowing what to make of their quirky new teacher.
“I suppose I should give you a short history of myself,” she continued dismissively, as if her own history was the least relevant thing in the world. “Here it is: Ex-auror, worked for the ministry most of my life, retired shortly after the last Wizard War. Albus Dumbledore is an old friend, asked me to come out of retirement just to teach this class, and here I am. In a nutshell, I am here to get you up to speed on your defensive training and attempt to repair the damage in your learning caused by that despicable old crone Dolores Umbridge,” Professor Grendelhall said in disgust. Apparently she was no more fond of their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher than the students were. Harry took an immediate liking to her.
“That’s all you need to know about my history. Why I am here is not nearly as important as why you are,” she said as she waved her wand towards a cabinet on the other side of the room. Its door swung open. “Now, I trust you are all intelligent enough to know that, but just in case there are a few who don’t, I am going to show you!” she said with a harsh cackle that was apparently supposed to be a laugh. She flicked her wand again and a number of small, folded pieces of paper flew out of the cabinet, sailed across the room, and landed on the desk next to her.
“Warshel Diddleblum!” she boomed out as the first of the floating papers burst open, revealing an article cut out of the Daily Prophet. The moving black and white picture showed nothing but a burned down house with the Dark Mark hovering over it. “Jumped by a couple Death-Eaters on his way back from work. They caught him with a basic Stupefy spell, then threw him into his own house and burned it down. Whole situation could have been avoided if the fool had thought to cast a simple Shield charm.” The class shuddered involuntarily.
The next paper flew open, this time showing a ministry wizard trying to put his hand in front of the camera. Behind him was what appeared to be a crowded city street with a crowd of onlookers. “Damien Quilp, worked for the ministry. The Daily Prophet reports that the Death-Eaters tried to recruit him in order to get at ministry secrets. When he refused they killed him. What the Daily Prophet doesn’t tell you is that the Death-Eaters cast the Imperius curse on him, had him attempt to assassinate ex-Minister Fudge, then forced him to jump off a muggle office building before the aurors could get to him.” Harry saw more than one student squirm in their seat. “Whole thing could have been avoided if Quilp had learned how to throw off the Imperius curse. Not an easy thing to do, but definitely possible.”
Harry thought back to his fourth year when Mad-Eye Moody had put them all under the Imperius curse and tried to teach them how to resist it. Using an Unforgivable Curse on a bunch of students had seemed a bit excessive at the time, but now he realized it hadn’t been preparation enough.
“And finally,” Professor Grendelhall said with a smile, as though she particularly enjoyed scaring a bunch of school kids, “Dinbell Abernathy. Worked for Gringott’s bank, had a wife, father of 5 children. Poor bloke was on a routine business trip to Belgium when he stumbled across one of Voldemort’s more formidable cronies, a dementor. The dementor caught him off guard and sucked the soul right out of him, leaving nothing but a shattered, shriveled husk.” The class gave a collective gasp of revulsion. Seeing this, Professor Grendelhall waved her wand and the newspaper articles went flying back into the cabinet they had come from. “I won’t show you that picture though, heh he heh.”
If Grendelhall meant to scare them as a way to motivate them into paying attention, it had definitely worked. Every student in the class had their eyes riveted on her. Walking around to the front of the desk, she leaned against it and gazed back at them. When she spoke again her voice was little more than a whisper.
“And here's something else you won’t read about in the Prophet. Not yet, anyways”Old Voldemort,” the class flinched for a second time as she said the name. Harry was impressed. “…is gathering an army of followers and dark creatures. As soon as he gets enough he will challenge the Ministry of Magic. What with the giants, goblins, dementors, and Merlin knows who else joining him, and the House-Elves and Centaurs not willing to fight with us,” here she swept her gaze purposefully over the class, making sure she made eye contact with every person, “…he has a good chance of winning. Heh heh he!” This uplifting statement was followed by her longest and most enthusiastic cackle yet. Several of the students looked at one another in frightened bewilderment, wondering how she could treat such a subject so lightly.
She stood upright again and paced in front of the desk. “Let me rephrase that. He has a good chance of winning IF more witches and wizards such as yourselves don’t learn to fight. Just because we’re facing an astonishingly brilliant, maniacal genius doesn’t mean you can’t fight back and win. Indeed, there are some even in this room,” here she gave an obvious look at Harry and smiled approvingly, “who have fought him already. THAT’S why you are here, to learn to defend yourself against what the dark arts can do!” she exclaimed passionately. “Now let’s get started!”
With that Professor Grendelhall strode to the center of the room where there was a large clearing. The students stared at her as she passed, too unnerved by her comments to say anything.
“Now, you’ll find that this class is different from what you are used to. No tests. No homework. If you can defend yourself by the end of our time together you pass. If not...well, a bad grade will be the least of your problems. Heh heh he!”
The rest of the class was spent watching Professor Grendelhall demonstrate various defensive techniques. Despite her age and odd personality, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. She seemed to be 50 years younger when she was in action. She knew her spells and was quick on her feet. For each demonstration she called on a student and had them cast various offensive spells on her while she showed the proper way to counter that spell. Harry swelled with pride each time a member of the DA was called up”without fail they were able to cast their spells perfectly, unlike the rest of the class who had trouble casting even the basic charms. After two or three students were unable to perform a stupefy spell, Professor Grendelhall called him up.
“Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. Potter! Why don’t you come up and show us how to stupefy someone!”
All eyes on him, Harry stood up and joined her in the center of the room. She looked at him craftily with that same, strange smile she had had when discussing the newspaper articles. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Stupefy!”
“Protego!” she yelled almost instantly. The spell bounced off her shield and smashed into a nearby bookcase. Before he knew it she had pointed her wand back at him and yelled, “Expelliarmus!”
Not expecting the second spell, Harry yelled out just in time, “Protego!” The spell glanced off his shield and shattered a nearby mirror. Without hesitating Professor Grendelhall flicked her wand in his direction, not saying a work. Immediately the desk behind him rose and hurtled forward, seconds away from crashing into him.
“Impedimentia!” he yelled out of pure reflex. The desk hung in the air for a brief second then dropped with a crash, sending books and pieces of wood flying through the air. Not waiting for Grendelhall to attack again he pointed his wand at the rug she was standing on and yelled, “Accio Rug!”
The rug leapt out from under her feet, taking the old witch completely unaware. With a startled shriek she collapsed to the ground. The entire classroom gasped.
An awkward silence pervaded the room. Harry looked at the crumpled form of his professor, slightly confused at what had just happened. He hadn’t expected to be attacked; he thought he was just casting a simple Stupefy spell. Everything that happened afterwards had been pure instinct. Suddenly Professor Grendelhall began to stir, with an odd croaking sound. It was a soft exhalation, as though she were having difficulty breathing.
“Heeehhhhh, hrreeeh, Haaahh…”
Harry ran to where she was laying, afraid he had killed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The croaking became much louder and clearer, until he realized it wasn’t croaking at all. It was laughter.
“HEH HEH HEH HAAA!”
Professor Grendelhall sat up, thin wispy hair over her face, hat crumpled on the floor, and a large grin on her face.
“Now THAT’S how to defend yourself!” she cried enthusiastically, as though getting thrown to the ground in front of the entire class was the best thing that could have happened to her. “Did you see that everyone? Quick thinking, expecting the unexpected, perfect execution of the spells” well done Potter, well done indeed! You may take a seat.”
The old witch picked up her hat and rose to her feet. “This is actually a good introduction to what I wanted to say last. As you have seen, Potter here is already quite adept at defensive techniques. I suppose having a raving murderer after you for so many years does that to a person,” she added in a quick mumble that the entire class heard. Harry flinched at the remark. Hermione gasped. Grendelhall continued as if nothing had happened. “Now, you may or may not be aware that last year he and some of his little friends put together a club to practice the defensive arts, right under the nose of that toad-faced hag Dolores Umbridge!” The class murmured excitedly as members of the DA grinned at each other. Harry noticed that the four Slytherins remained quiet.
“Albus has asked that this club continue, as he thinks you should get all the training you can. As you have seen,” here she gestured to the shattered bookcase, smashed desk, and curled up rug, “Harry is a most qualified teacher and you are as dense as a dingbat if you didn’t want to train with him.” She gave him a quick wink. “Harry and I still need to go over some of the details, but the first meeting will be next Wednesday. I would strongly recommend that you participate in the club, but if you decide not to, please find some other way to practice. You are dismissed.”
After class many of the students came up to Harry to congratulate him or ask questions about the DA. Terry Boot and Susan Bones were especially excited that the DA was going to happen again, and volunteered to help out in any way they could. Harry felt slightly embarrassed by all the attention, but was excited to see the enthusiasm. He was already looking forward to the first meeting and discussing it with Ron and Hermione when Professor Grendelhall’s voice stopped him.
“Oh, Harry! A quick word, if you will.”
“Sure.”
“No, no, you two can stay,” she gestured to Hermione and Ron, who assumed the conversation was meant for Harry alone and were about to leave the room. “He’ll most likely tell you anyway, so you might as well hear it straight from me.”
“As you know, Harry, Albus has asked me to supervise this defensive club. Now, I’ve heard all about what you did last year and it’s obvious that you and your friends are more than able to take care of things yourself, so I think the best role for me is to stand aside, let you do your thing, and step in only when needed. Do you agree?” she asked in a businesslike croak.
“Er…yeah,” Harry replied.
“Great. The first meeting will be next Thursday in the old Charms classroom. It’s on the 3rd floor corridor next to the old statue of Erik the Smoldy. Be there at 7:00. I’ll announce it in my other classes and may step in for a bit, but otherwise it is all up to you.”
“Ok,” said Harry. His own class? No hiding what they were doing from the ministry? He could feel the excitement welling up inside just at the thought.
“Now, on a different subject…” here she looked around the room carefully, as if making sure no one would hear what she was about to say. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this,” her voice suddenly turned sober and for the first time that day she looked serious. “…but while we are at war, there is a good chance that Lord Voldemort will have spies lurking about, student spies. I know that Albus trusts you, so I do as well. If you ever have any reason to suspect that a student is spying for You-Know-Who, let me know. Don’t confront them,” she added, gazing purposefully at Harry, “just let me know.”
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” Ron blurted out immediately.
Professor Grendelhall smiled slightly. “Draco has already been dealt with,” came the witch’s easy reply. “As have Crabbe and Goyle. I mean if you suspect anybody in the other houses, even in your own house, let me know, will you?”
Harry exchanged an uneasy look with Hermione. Spies for Voldemort in their own house? The Hufflepuff’s or the Ravenclaw’s, maybe, the Slytherins obviously, but it was hard to believe any of the Gryffindors would turn against Dumbledore.
“Yes, professor,” Hermione answered.
“Yes.”
“We will.”
“Excellent. That is all then. See you next class,” Professor Grendelhall dismissed them.
They were just about to the door when she spoke up again. “Oh, and Ron, Hermione?” she asked, all trace of seriousness gone from her voice.
“Yes?”
“You two are adorable together.”
Ron’s face turned bright red. Hermione’s jaw dropped.
“Well, toodles!” she said with one last cackle before disappearing into her office and shutting the door.