Mess Around and Find Out

The first class the next morning was Herbology.

The sun was shining, but unfortunately, Andrew couldn't enjoy the beautiful weather.

Studying Transfiguration on his own had taken even more out of him than he'd expected. Transfiguring complex objects was a difficult challenge.

Before casting a spell, he had to picture every detail of the object, then believe he could create each part with magic. That was anything but simple. If his mental image lacked detail or his confidence wavered, all he got was a failure that looked roughly right but was obviously fake.

After a whole night of work, he had finally managed to make a hammer...

An actual hammer. The old-fashioned, two-piece kind: a wooden handle, a head, and a small wedge to hold them together.

Whether he had gone to bed too late or practiced too many times, his head was aching now.

"No, I don't think it was the studying. I think you ate too much ice cream."

Kevin butted in cheerfully. Andrew ignored him.

Kevin soon lost his chance to say anything else. They had reached the greenhouse. All Herbology classes took place there; Professor Sprout placed greater emphasis on hands-on work.

"This herb is Dittany, one of the most important materials for treating injuries. It works well on wounds caused by common magic, and it can stop ordinary bleeding almost instantly.

"More importantly, it needs very little from its environment and grows in abundance. It's common in the wild, too.

"Its most distinctive feature is its flower. Of course, if you know the leaves, then..."

Before Professor Sprout had finished introducing Dittany, Andrew had confirmed one thing: getting a high mark in this subject would take a lot of effort.

It wasn't that he couldn't memorize the material. He just wasn't that interested...

Andrew took out a pencil and made a quick sketch of Dittany's distinguishing features in his notebook.

That caught Professor Sprout's attention. She hurried over to Andrew, looking rather pleased. Then she saw the sketch and froze.

After a moment's struggle, as though she were trying hard to swallow her discomfort, the kindly professor managed to speak in an even tone.

"Drawing the features that make plants easy to identify is an excellent idea. One point to Ravenclaw."

"You don't have to force yourself, Professor."

Andrew calmly closed his notebook, blocking everyone else's view. He knew his own limitations. If he could draw even a little better, he would have found another way to make money. Even illustrations alongside his writing would have helped it sell.

Next came several more commonly used herbs. Andrew's notebook gained a few more masterpieces whose identifying features only he could make out.

After that, their kindly Herbology professor made no further attempt to look through his notebook.

When class ended, most of the young wizards were strolling along at an easy pace. Then someone mentioned that Defense Against the Dark Arts was next, and they charged toward their common rooms.

The other classes were all well and good, but they couldn't quite match the appeal of a subject that let you use force directly.

Unfortunately, Andrew felt no urge to charge anywhere. If it hadn't been compulsory, he would have stayed as far away as possible.

Even in a quick rundown of the story, the professor teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of its most important figures. If Andrew had had a way to report him discreetly, he would have reported this first Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to the school already.

Other than an anonymous letter delivered by owl—which they could trace if they bothered to look—how could I secretly get a letter onto Dumbledore's desk and make him suspicious enough to investigate, even a little?

After thinking it over for ages without finding a good solution, Andrew sighed, returned to his common room, washed up quickly, changed his clothes, and resigned himself to going to class.

"Do you smell something?"

"Garlic... A whole lot of garlic..."

They were still some distance from the classroom when the students, who had only just washed off the smell of dragon dung, realized that wash might have been for nothing.

By the time they reached the classroom, several of them were making quite a face.

But there was no getting around it: their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, had decorated his classroom with garlic. An especially pungent amount of it.

Physical and mental suffering, both cranked all the way up...

Andrew even pulled his roommates toward seats near the back, offering what sounded like a solid reason. "You've all seen Professor Quirrell's enormous turban, right? I suspect he's got a ring of garlic underneath it. He only wears the turban to hide it so he doesn't look too strange."

Most of the class actually accepted this excuse, which he had made up out of thin air.

Despite what he'd said, Andrew was still somewhat looking forward to the class. It was his only chance to learn the subject from a teacher; everything else would have to be self-study. Unlike with his other courses, he couldn't simply swallow his pride and join a group asking questions.

That would be too risky. Any other teacher might give him a perfunctory answer or two before brushing him off. If this professor decided something was off about him, he wouldn't need to work up the nerve to get rid of him.

Once the professor knew him and had some idea where he usually went, using Andrew's life as bait to buy himself time and room to act wouldn't be surprising, either.

If Andrew had been sorted into Slytherin and invented a suitable background for himself, he might have been able to pick up a little knowledge safely. As things stood, it was best to keep their teacher-student relationship simple and distant.

For all his private grumbling, Andrew had to admit that this formidable professor knew his stuff in the classroom. His stammer sounded deliberate, not like a lack of confidence, and the lesson was easy enough to follow.

But his roommates weren't about to let him off.

"How come you didn't go up and ask the professor anything? What, did you really mean it?"

"You'll get someone killed running your mouth like that."

Andrew hurriedly made something up. "I'm not that interested in this subject. I prefer the feeling of controlling objects with Transfiguration."

"Sure, sure. A practical-minded wizard. Or is it because Transfiguration earns you more points?"

"I can't deny that's part of it."

Andrew kept a perfectly straight face.

"Yeah, right!"

"Come on, let's get lunch... I hope there's no garlic in the food, or it'll bring back unpleasant memories..."

"What could be more unpleasant than not learning a single spell from the professor today?"

"Easy. By the look of things, we won't learn any spells next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, either..."

Trading barbs, the students at the back headed toward the dining hall with laughter and complaints. Ahead of them, the students walking in twos and threes picked up their pace, leaving a faint but unmistakable divide between the two groups.