Chapter 290 - 290
Outside, the weather today was indecisive. Overcast in the morning, now with glimpses of sun that sharpened the vividness of the greenery and the contrasts of colour along the forest edge before Hogwarts. We made our way to the Care of Magical Creatures paddock. Nobody there.
"Is it meant to be this empty right now?" I looked around at everything, meanwhile checking the territory with magical sensitivity — indeed, no one. "Didn't check the Care schedule, should've done."
"How would I know?" Draco had returned to his sulky, discontented state. "Get on with it, half-baked Merlin, set the traps."
For ten minutes I set traps everywhere, while Malfoy propped himself up against the fence of the large paddock, and Daphne, having found some interesting plant, evidently rare, meticulously gathered ingredients.
"A dozen and a half traps," I reported on the work done. "In every conceivable spot. Coverage of the territory will be superb. What's the time situation?"
"Soon," Daphne didn't look up from gathering her herbs. "Fifteen minutes, then it'll be break. Then just as long again to get here."
"Delightful," Malfoy snorted and pulled out the black robe and mask, putting them on. "Not bad, actually, quite comfortable."
The robe really did look comfortable, roomy but not baggy, not turning the wizard into one big target. Daphne and I dressed up too, cast obscuring charms and other necessary odds and ends on ourselves, and headed to the observation spot Malfoy had scouted.
"I'll trigger the traps — that'll be the signal. We work the drilled scheme. We rise, move in a spindle pattern, pour fire on everyone, Draco on cover."
"How many more times," Malfoy grumbled. "We've been over this ten times already."
"As many as it takes," Daphne answered dryly. "And besides, Malfoy, don't give away our position."
"Position? And since when did you become so tactically savvy, Greengrass?"
"Never too late to learn something new."
There was nothing to say to that, so we fell silent and waited.
The forest's edge, leaves rustling in the breeze, birds singing, small magical creatures chirring, sunlight playing with the shadow of the trees. Beautiful. Utterly ruined by the noisy crowd of students under Professor Hunt's leadership. I'm sure she knows how to instil discipline, but judging by the absence of that discipline in the crowd, either her methods aren't approved by Snape, or, judging by the background presence of the Mark on her left arm, by more "senior" authorities.
"Reeeady…" I whispered, watching the crowd walk right into the centre of the mass of traps.
A second, another, everyone in the kill zone. Draco and Daphne concentrated, wands in hand, a serious look visible through my girlfriend's mask, while Draco was a touch nervous, rolling his fingers along his wand.
There, everyone was in the kill zone. I detonated the necessary traps, black smoke swallowed absolutely everything, but we could see the red outlines of silhouettes — coughing from the smoke, arms and legs tangling, some already about to fall. Barely half a second had passed.
We launched into combat Apparition, rising as black smoke and spinning in a spindle around a shared axis. I felt some countless stream of protective charms being layered onto me — Draco in top form, when he wants to be! Daphne needed a second and a half to two seconds for the initial creation of the circuit — in that time we'd already almost flown up to the Fumos zone, holding some ten metres up in the sky. Someone had managed to scramble out of the range of my traps, uselessly stumbling clear.
Raising my wand, I added a couple of disorientating hexes across the area. Right at that moment Daphne's rune circle burst forth with a countless swarm of silver blobs, streaking towards their targets like rockets. And another volley followed.
Professor Hunt had by now scrambled out of the trap, not risking Apparating — disorientation in such a case can drive you straight into the grave, quite literally too. So she was casting, "into nothing," a multi-layered Protego Totalus and Dark Shields, while trying to recover herself enough to allow herself to Apparate.
A second swarm of spells from Daphne went out towards the targets. A few of the students — there were only a handful — had fought off the first salvo, now fighting off this one. Whoever had made it out of the affected zone and shielded themselves pointed at us in panic, running, and only Potter — quite the surprise! — and Hermione tried to attack us.
Draco handled the defence of our trio splendidly in flight, not only raising shields but countering opponents' spells with spells of his own. Now I was striking more precisely across the area, putting Potter and Hermione to sleep. Another volley from Daphne disarmed everyone, though the wands simply flew off to the side. Tellingly, only seven people even reached for their wands. And another volley — Incarcerous.
The professor had long since recovered and simply watched, though the whole action hadn't taken even ten seconds.
"Everyone's down," I summed up, and we landed beside the professor. "Mission accomplished."
"Well, bloody hell, you're a bunch of dreamers!" she destroyed the Fumos smoke with a careless flick of her wand, while I deactivated the effects of the rune traps.
Many were instantly coming to their senses, panicking at finding themselves bound, disarmed, sprawled all over the clearing, looking for all the world like wizard larvae. We took off our masks and threw back our hoods.
The professor walked with a light, dancing gait along the neutralised students, glancing at them with a rakish smile and a glint of madness in her eyes, never forgetting to twirl her wand, lifting our spells with Finite. We simply walked alongside.
"What fighters!" the professor said mockingly, dispelling another Incarcerous and, where needed, reviving someone with Ennervate. "What an elite! Ready to take on the Dark Lord right this instant!"
My friends weren't at all upset, just smiling, looking at me and at the whole massacre. Hannah, in fact, seemed rather pleased about something.
"Didn't I say they'd take us apart like Merlin does a tortoise? Hand over your money!" — ah, well, that explained things.
"Did you know our group's assignment in advance?" I couldn't help but ask, meanwhile summoning Hannah's wand from the ground and returning it to her.
"Well, you three were the only ones who definitely didn't tell anyone about your group, and everyone else was all in one, so it wasn't hard to work out."
Flitwick and Pomfrey emerged from invisibility. The Healer-witch quickly began checking the students for injuries, but found none, while Flitwick came over to us and cheerfully praised the ingenuity and improvisation of our solutions and magical tricks.
Not far off, Weasley and Potter were complaining, arguing with the professor about the fairness of the test, their arguments simple ones — we'd attacked from ambush, we were devious, they hadn't expected an attack. Finnigan and Thomas weren't standing aside either, but behaved more mildly. The professor waved off their arguments, and a couple of minutes later, once everyone had straightened themselves up, called for silence and gathered everyone together. Flitwick and Pomfrey left — they had other things to attend to besides all this.
"Right then. Ten points to Granger, Malfoy, Greengrass for excellent preparation and a well-executed operation. Ten points to Miss Granger, Potter and Parkinson, who managed to get clear of the trap quickly, defend against the first attack, and even got spells off in return. Two points to Abbott, MacMillan, Goyle, both Patils, for at least managing to draw their wands. Minus ten points to Weasley for an unrelenting desire to argue with a teacher at raised volume."
"Professor," Hermione raised her hand. "My success isn't down to my own merit. It's an artefact."
"Don't care," the professor waved it off. "The mere fact of possessing such an artefact is already a factor of your prior preparation. In reality, in a combat situation, only your survival matters. Your odds turned out higher than the others' — that's the only thing that counts."
The professor walked along our ragged ranks, thinking aloud.
"What can be said about the situation? A pile of self-important children against three no-less-children, but with real skills, planning, organisation. These three used everything, from reconnoitring the terrain and preparing traps, to using intimidation factors like black combat Apparition and black robes and masks in the Death Eater style. I do believe I heard some screaming, and someone tried to run, showing us a clean pair of heels."
"Exactly, a treacherous ambush," Weasley grumbled. "If they'd only come out one-on-one… And besides, if they'd shown themselves, we'd have mobbed them…"
"Mr Granger," the professor addressed me. "Your classmates haven't quite grasped the situation. How would you have changed your tactics if the combat objective had been not neutralisation of the enemy, but annihilation?"
"I'd have added Grey Ash to the Fumos, Daphne would've attacked not with a disarming spell but with Bombarda, mixing the writhing, pain-wracked crowd with blood, guts and earth, and then I'd have gone through with Fiendfyre. There wouldn't have been any survivors, Professor."
The students grumbled, which was expected.
"You don't do things by halves, do you," Malfoy smirked, standing next to me.
"How would the time taken to complete the task have changed?" the professor asked.
"It would've been halved. To incapacitate the opponents, Daphne had to fire off several series of spells, which increased the total casting time by two and a half times. I had to use a few extra area spells to neutralise Potter, Hermione and Parkinson, which added a further two-odd seconds. A combination of the trap plus a simultaneous series of Bombardas and Fiendfyre would have taken about three seconds total, accounting for the time needed to 'kindle' the Fiendfyre. Three seconds — and there wouldn't even have been ashes left."
"Dark magic…" some grumbled, though not, as it happened, directed at me specifically but at the principle of the thing, which was somewhat reassuring. Or unsettling.
"For your information," the professor smirked, twirling her wand in the air, "the compulsory minimum for Auror Office staff is proficiency in at least five offensive and five defensive Dark spells. What's more, by Ministry order, Auror Office staff may use the Unforgivables during arrests or in combat. Naturally, everyone is required to be able to fully shield themselves from the negative consequences of using Dark Magic. So much for these 'champions of the light.' And that's without even mentioning other countries' standards and laws — England's the most contradictory and freedom-restricting when it comes to studying magic in this regard. But never mind that."
The professor beckoned our trio over with a gesture, and we approached her.
"The first part of the practical's over. Now, as you all seem to like it, let's play it a bit fairer. Three of you against these three here."
A series of three-on-three battles began. There weren't all that many volunteers, and they all ran out eventually. Surprisingly, when you can focus on just one role, everything becomes considerably easier, though I wouldn't have had trouble even without that. Malfoy handled the role of defending me and Daphne splendidly, I switched between roles now and then, sometimes backing Daphne's attacks, sometimes helping Malfoy. Every opponent scattered like skittles.
"And notice, they're not trying to kill you, as would happen in real combat!" the professor kept tossing out remarks every so often. "Even the riff-raff from Knockturn know at least five particularly dangerous Dark tricks!"
"Where are you putting that shield, you amateur!"
"Move! Move, may a dementor take your bedside table!"
"Nowhere to hide — Transfigure! Ah, can't, can you! Not my problem if—"
Once this entertaining, but overall dull, demonstration concluded, the professor summed up.
"The goal of my course isn't to turn you into fighters. My task is to teach you, in case you find yourselves caught up in trouble, to defend yourselves, hinder the enemy's attack, and get out fast. These three," she gestured at us, "will be playing the role of attackers in our practicals."
With that, the lesson wrapped up, and all of us were sent on our way — to change, for those who needed it, and off to dinner. Dinner? Well, time certainly flies unnoticed.
At dinner in the Great Hall no one bothered me, no one complained about anything, my year-mates and Housemates were tired enough just to eat. And besides, I suspect our little performance in the Death Eater style had brought back thoughts, only just starting to settle, about the troubles in the country. Though, again, the Dark Lord still hadn't undertaken any particularly warlike moves so far, aside from a couple of operations, and even those, it seems to me, were only needed as a sort of statement, along the lines of: "Yes, yes, I'm here, and so is everyone — werewolves, giants, Death Eaters — and any day now we might drown the lot of you in fire." Perhaps meant to generate social tension?
Maybe there really is a political motive behind it? But if the information available about the last civil war is anything to go by, the Dark Lord's "politics" back then were, by the end, anything but this quiet sort of approach. And all these reshuffles in the Ministry… Ugh, the lack of reliable information is grating.
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