HA 10a: Genius

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 10: Ashes to Ashes - Genius

A mere four days into the new school year - and already, there had been trouble.

A bad sign, Minerva thought wearily as she made her way up to the staff room. It certainly did not bode well for the rest of the year when it had taken just two days for three students to be found wandering around the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid - Sixth-Years, no less, who should have known better. Then there had been the recent spat of trouble between Slughorn and Pomona - with the latter claiming that the former had ‘mutilated her prize Tentacula with the base intention of procuring venom for his wretched potions.’ Sybil Trelawney had yet again marched into Minerva’s office to demand Firenze’s immediate ejection from the castle, with the result that the Headmistress had felt very much like ejecting Sybil from the castle. To cap it all, Professor Read, the new Transfiguration teacher, had stubbornly set the First-Years an essay that was quite beyond their capabilities despite multiple objections.

She shook her head; surely it wasn’t all that bad? The Sixth-Years had been unharmed, with the lies simply extending to the idea of ‘some man in the woods’ they’d apparently followed, the prize Tantacula was hardly ‘mutilated’ and Sybil was as a permanent a problem as the drainage; one had to accept it and move on. As for Professor Read - there was no doubt that her own prejudices were interfering there. Perhaps it was because she lived in the past so much, but Professor Read would always be ‘new’ - and what’s more, a usurper of her position. Minerva wondered whether Albus had felt the same when she’d taken over Transfiguration; she hoped not.

The staff room was ominously silent when she entered. Pomona was fuming darkly in an armchair by the fire, a book entitled Repairing Herbological Damage perched conspicuously on her knee, and Slughorn was red in the face and seemed inflated even more than usual by an air of injured self-importance. The room still seemed to echo from the sounds of a heated argument. Trelawney gave an obvious sniff at Minerva’s entry and went back to her marking with a look that said: That woman. She’ll never understand me, the poor abused Seer…

The Headmistress shot her a glare and made her way over the sofa where Rolanda sat. She rarely entered the staff room but when she did, it was usually to see the flying instructor. Rolanda had mumbled something at breakfast about one of the First-Years ‘being uncommonly good on a broom - and the rule was broken once before…’

“Minerva!” said Rolanda, noticing her presence only she sat down next to her. “Glad you’re here - the atmosphere here is terrible-”

“Yes, isn’t it?” said Pomona loudly. “But then, vandalism has never been welcome here at Hogwarts-”

Slughorn mouthed incoherently at the back of the Herbology professor’s head. “These accusations are completely unfounded! My good woman-”

“I am not your good woman, Professor Slughorn,” replied Pomona coldly. “If you needed ingredients, you simply had to ask-”

“I did! Several times! But to suggest that I-”

“And each time, I believe I informed you that it had not yet matured sufficiently-”

“Preposterous! Tentacula venom doesn’t need to mature-”

“Headmistress,” Pomona said sharply. “Professor Slughorn has admitted-”

“Admitted? I have admitted nothing! First you supply me with inaccurate information and then you accuse me-”

Rolanda rolled her eyes and gently put a hand on Minerva‘s shoulder to stop her from standing up to interfere. “Oh ignore them, they’ve been at it all evening.” She leaned forward suddenly, with a serious, excited look.

“Rolanda, if this is about the First-Year-” Minerva began, deciding to stem the adulation before it got out of hand.

To her astonishment, Rolanda waved her hand airily as though batting away a fly. “Never mind about Mr Weasley; he can wait. Listen, I was going up to the Owlery and you’d never believe what I saw!”

“What?”

Doubt crept into her friend’s face. “Well - I think that was what I saw - I only glimpsed it, you see, before it flew away-”

“Spit it out, Rolanda.”

The flying instructor was looking more and more anxious with every second. Minerva felt the brown eyes sweep over her, as if a bombshell was about to be dropped and it was arguable as to whether or not the Headmistress could withstand the impact. “Minerva… I’m not sure whether it was his… it looked like his - but I suppose it could have been-”

The sounds of Slughorn and Pomona’s argument cut off, suddenly, as if all the debate had been was a broadcast on a radio that had been turned off. His. Minerva found herself leaning forward. His? As in… His? A pain shafted down the centre of her chest, down the internal scars left by the Stunners of over a decade before. She took a deep breath-

CRASH.

The door rebounded back off the wall, almost smacking back in the freckled face of Professor Read, who shouted something nobody understood, waving a length of parchment in the air. Minerva found herself in her Animagus form, the shock of the Transfiguration teacher’s entry having forced her transformation and set her fur on end.

Embarassed, the Headmistress shifted back, and sent a disapproving glare in Professor Read’s direction. She turned her head back to Rolanda - but the disturber of the peace was now shrieking something, continuing to wave the parchment.

“A genius! A genius! Oh, Headmistress!”

Minerva could feel a headache beginning. Martha Read reminded her something of Sybil, in that she was rather highly-strung and prone to screeching at loud volume.

“Yes, Martha!” she snapped. Patience is a virtue, chanted her brain piously.

Martha swooped down on her and shoved the parchment in her face. She glimpsed lines of narrow, loopy writing before the text was ripped away, to be held delicately on up-turned palms as though the professor was making some sort of offering to the sky.

“Headmistress! In my hands I now hold… an academic peak!”

There was a pause - Slughorn and Pomona having been stunned into silence, and the rest of the room speechless at the bizarre statement. Minerva gazed from the parchment to Professor Read’s excited face and back again, at a loss.

“An academic peak?” she repeated, carefully.

“Yes!”

“Really?” asked Professor Vector. “I never thought that that was something that one could actually hold, so to speak.”

Hagrid set down his book, scratching his head in obvious confusion. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Professor Read, but I’m afraid I’m not understandin’ yeh.”

“Neither does anyone else,” said Minerva acidly, impatience beginning to break free. “Spit it out, Martha. And please sit down and stop cluttering up the room.”

Martha Read sank down into a chair - but continued to hold the parchment up, gazing skywards with a starstruck expression. “Headmistress,” she whispered. “This academic peak I have here - is none other than the work of a First-Year.”

Pomona snorted. “Then I sincerely doubt that it’s any sort of an academic peak.”

“This essay,” Martha continued reverently, “is a work of genius.”

There was another startled pause. Minerva raised one eyebrow: student’s work had been described as excellent, outstanding and brilliant - and even then, those drooling descriptions were confined to reports and references. Students themselves were sometimes referred to tentatively as bright or talented, on the basis of multiple essays and other pieces of work. To sit in the staff room and declare a student to be a genius was unheard of - especially when said pupil was a First-Year and the evidence was one essay.

“’Genius?’ That’s a very strong word,” squeaked Filius from the other side of the room.

“Unless you are going to explain further-” began Minerva testily.

Martha snapped to attention and brought the essay down to lap-level. “Headmistress, I’m not sure if you were aware, but I set the First-Years an essay in their third lesson on-”

“I was most certainly aware. I believe I urged you not to set it.”

“Yes, well… The essay was on the simple template of any normal Transfiguration spell - known as the Transmutation Matrix, which concerns the-”

“Once upon a time, around about the time when dinosaurs walked the earth, I was the Transfiguration Professor; I’m quite aware of the Transmutation Matrix,” hissed Minerva. She clamped her jaw shut, knowing that if she continued, she would be completely unable to curb her tongue.

“Oh… Oh yes, of course,” said the other woman, flushing. “Well… I only meant for them to do a very basic discussion of the main principles - but this student-” she waved the essay “-this student - oh, Headmistress, I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Please stop gushing and get to the point.”

“Of course, well, this student’s essay - it reads like something out of the Transfiguration Journal!”

“Are you sure they did not simply copy out of it?” suggested Filius gently.

“They can’t have - they explained it from a very neutral standpoint, when most articles in the Journal are biased to one side or the other and nobody’s recently-”

“Forgive me,” said Professor Vector. “But Transfiguration was never my speciality. This …Matrix is a template, correct? How can there be a debate over it?”

“There are many arguments over the actual fundamentals,” Minerva found herself explaining. “It’s very complicated: there are two views on how particles behave during Transfiguration, and then there are many standpoints on whether or not the particles can be manipulated in certain ways… Also, the Matrix fails to explain the why in why does Transfiguration work that way? There are even debates about it in regards to things like death, birth and ageing.”

“Thank Merlin I never took Transfiguration beyond my OWLs,” muttered Slughorn.

“Anyway,” continued Professor Read, “this student covers most of the main debates and actually talked about particles! It’s far beyond Seventh-Year level! I - I confess I don’t understand a good deal of it-”

Slughorn raised his thick eyebrows. “You don’t understand a First-Year’s essay?”

Minerva took a deep, bracing breath. Martha Read was simply silly and deluded; she did not deserve to be shouted at, especially when she honestly believed what she was saying. It was time to be gentle. “I don’t like to suggest it, but it sounds as though this student either copied out of a book on the subject or got someone more knowledgeable than themselves to write it for them.”

Martha’s face fell. “Yes… I suppose that’s always possible,” she said slowly.

“What’s the student’s name?”

“Brian Potter.”

The Headmistress blinked in disappointed surprise - and then scolded herself inside her head. Just because Harry and Ginny were pinnacles of modesty and honesty didn’t necessarily mean that their son was immune from human failings, she berated herself. Such prejudice!

“Let me read it myself, and perhaps it might ring a bell to me and allow me to pin-point the source or whatever he’s copied from.”

“Oh… oh all right then,” said Martha, seeming to deflate like a popped balloon. “I’ll just be - be getting back to my marking, then.”

The door slammed, Pomona and Slughorn resumed arguing and Sybil continued to sniff. Minerva set the essay aside and turned back to Rolanda - only to find that the flying instructor had exited some time before, thoroughly worn down with impatience.