Knowledge is Power

Chapter 12

Mag had another exciting summer in store because her Mum's parents were coming for a visit. As Heather's maiden name was Knight, Mag called her Mum's parents, the Knight grandparents. It was her way of differentiating them from her WestCraven grandparents when referring to grandparents in general.

She saw her WestCraven grand parents far more frequently because while they were retired, they still lived in England. When Raislen married Heather, his parents gave him the family home and retired to the town of Clacton-On-Sea. Her Knight grandparents traveled all over Europe so she saw them far less. They were not retired and both were bards. Mag's Mum could carry a tune, only just, so had not inherited the bardic genes from either of them.

A bard had magic in their voice and could cast spells with their very singing or encourage whatever emotions they wanted to inspire with their music. Mag loved to sing but she knew that this didn't necessarily make her a bard. The Knight grandparents arrived at WestCraven manor five days after Mag finished her fifth year at Hogwarts.

This particular visit was actually in her honor and they brought her a gift for scoring so well on her O.W.LS. After embracing her grandparents she took the long trunk shaped gift box and eagerly unwrapped it to find a fiddle case inside. She lifted back the black leather lid to see a stunning fiddle. It gleamed a rich dark red nearly like her own hair. It seemed to Mag to radiate magic and power.

As a child, Mag had gotten sporadic fiddle lessons from her grandparents so having one of her own thrilled her to no end. It meant they thought she had an aptitude for it. Bards did not give instruments lightly so the statement made by the gesture was an honor.
"The wood is from an ancient Chinese redwood tree which spawned some very powerful wands. We searched all last year for the perfect fiddle for you," Grandfather Knight told her with a proud smile as he reached to give her another hug.

"Does that mean it has magic like a wand? Will it guide the magic in my songs if I have the bardic touch," Mag asked and her grandfather nodded slowly.

"It very well could. It may inspire you to play a song in a particular way, slower, faster, louder, softer, for a longer or shorter time. Sometimes it will want to stop even if you intended to go on, and if you don't listen to it, the rest of the performance won't go as well. At other times though," he concluded with a chuckle, "it'll want to play until you're exhausted! When a bard and their fiddle are well suited, though, you're usually of the same mind about things."

Impulsively Mag embraced both of her Knight grandparents again."It's so wonderful! Thank you both so much. But how did you know I'd do so well on my OWLS," she asked with an incredulous laugh.

"Because you're not one to neglect your studies," Grandmother Knight said with a knowing wink.

During the visit with her Knight grandparents, Mag practiced endlessly on her new fiddle and took lessons from either whenever they were willing to give them which was frequently enough. She also begged them to sing for her so that she may study the craft.

"Mag, let them alone," Heather chastised half-heartedly.
"They perform all the time. They should get to relax while they're here without having to sing."

"Nonsense. Performing for our granddaughter is our way of sharing with her," Heather's mother told her, dismissing her daughter's concerns with a smile and a wave of one slender hand.

So inspired by her grandparents was she that summer, that by the time Mag boarded the train for Hogwarts for her sixth year of school, she was determined to play and sing daily. The fiddlecase that held her gleaming red instrument boarded the train along with her other trunks. If her fellow Slytherins didn't love music, it was their problem because they were going to have it daily in the common room.

At the feast, yet another defense against the dark arts professor was introduced. This one with his odd fake eye, certainly wasn't getting interested looks from all the silly girls, Mag thought in dry amusement.

//I can't see anything from his mind at all,// Nightshade noted uneasily.
//He must have some really good shields.//

Though Nightshade was a telepath, he could only see surface thoughts. I.E exactly what a person was thinking at the time. He couldn't delve into their pasts or locate buried knowledge or thoughts as many skilled wizards in the art could do. Still the owl's ability was impressive and had served them thus far until now.

//Perhaps it's just a defensive trick he uses,// Mag thought back.
She wondered if she should mention it to professor Snape regardless...just in case...

//Fuck no! He'll not believe you unless you can tell him how you know, which will require you to break your word to me and tell him about my abilities,// Nightshade protested hotly enough to give Mag a headache.

//Fine! He's good enough to notice it himself anyway,// she replied, comforting herself with that knowledge.

The year progressed normally enough until Halloween... Mag was so enraged she saw red when Harry Bloody Potter got to participate in the triwizard tournament. She very much wanted to be chosen, and felt herself good enough to compete but stupid talentless Harry Potter got to do it instead? It so wasn't fair. Then Nightshade made it worse when reading Harry Potter's mind as he tended to do from time to time to keep them up to date on any potential danger the prat may cause by being at Hogwarts.

//Apparently the first bit involves slipping past a dragon. He found out from Hagrid,// Nightshade thought to her at breakfast.

If Mag hadn't been awake, she certainly was after the adrenaline laced shot of rage and envy that spiked through her.
//I love dragons! They're my favorite type of magical creature. It just isn't fair! Harry Potter is not worthy!//

//And now I'm getting a headache,// Nightshade thought back.

To make matters worse when Mag went to rant to professor Snape after school he gave her an annoyed frown rather than the sympathy and understanding she'd expected.

"That tournament is extremely dangerous, Magritte," he said peevishly.

"Students have died participating in it. Why do you think it wasn't held anymore. Besides I removed your name from the drawing. I didn't want Heather and Raislen's child at risk."

"YOU DID WHAT," Mag shrieked, momentarily forgetting that he'd called her Magritte. While she liked the history behind her name, she wasn't as thrilled by the name itself and strongly preferred Mag to Magritte. The first Magritte Westcraven was an ancestor who'd been burned for witchcraft centuries ago. Mag was truly proud to carry on the name as well as the magic...so long as everyone called her Mag. Professor Snape knew she hated being called Magritte so the fact he chose to do it while telling her that he'd just screwed her out of her chances to compete in the triwizard tournament was just too much. Turning she stalked from the dungeon without another word.

She fumed about the situation practically nonstop until it ended badly. Her subsequent apology to Professor Snape was accepted by the man with a satisfied smirk.

"You're welcome," he said smugly.
Not for the first time, Mag was very tempted to ask professor Snape what had happened between him and her parents. Though he was still her constant crush, she didn't feel bold enough to bring up the topic. She didn't wish to upset him and she had a feeling broaching the subject would do nothing else. As her parents felt speaking of whatever it was was unsafe, she knew she had to leave it alone for the time being. Unfortunately there were bigger Voldemort sized problems roaming the wizarding world at present.

The events of that year frightened Mag enough to have her thinking creatively. As if the triwizard tournament wasn't bad enough, Voldemort having a body again and people being kidnapped and impersonated really turned up the fear factor element on the wizarding world. She was glad Nightshade had such an easy time reading Potter's brain because most people didn't know that anything was going on yet and that made things even worse! The Ministry wasn't taking action and their best hope was bloody Dumbledore! The same Headmaster who felt Harry bloody Potter studying at Hogwarts and consequently endangering all the other students by being there was a good idea. The old man hadn't even known that the defense professor wasn't the original!

//Guess that weird eye didn't save Moody from shit in the end,// Nightshade thought dryly.

Mag nodded her silent agreement. Could anything be good enough protection, though?