B.Q. Book Two: Black Princess Ascendant

Chapter 15: Defending One's Self-Interests

Disclaimer: Were multiple electives scheduled for the same time period, inconveniencing everyone who was not vital to the plot and therefore did not have access to a Time-Turner? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
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"Finally that class is going to get fun!"

"Yes, Morag, we know. You've only said it five times since we left Runes," Jen sighed with a roll of her eyes. She could understand the Scottish girl's enthusiasm – memorizing a bunch of foreign symbols was incredibly boring if one did not also learn how to use them – but enough was enough. The whole class had been happy that Babbling would at long last teach how to activate the runes they drew, yet she did not see any of them other than Morag harping on about it.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh, though? After all, Elsie showed me how to use the Futhark runes when she was teaching them to me, so this isn't something new and exciting for me. Because a sizable portion of the class apparently did not continue on with Ancient Runes in their NEWT years, it made sense that they would be instructed on the practical aspects of the class; it was not something they had to know for the exam, but it would entice some who were still debating about it to return the following year. It was probably the same reason they spent their fifth year learning Egyptian hieroglyphs, the principle language for erecting wards. Thinking on the matter for another moment, she mentally shrugged. Then again, I do have something to look forward to. If everyone is practicing turning on their rune scripts, it will give me an excuse to practice without having to sneak around on my own time, even if that does take half the fun out of it.

"There's no need to be mean, Jen," Luna chastised. "We understand that you aren't looking forward to our next class, but you shouldn't take it out on us. We weren't the ones who hired your father."

"My sincerest apologies."

Padma – who, not taking Runes, had joined up with them a few minutes earlier from the library – and Morag both snickered at the sarcasm dripping from her words, and she waved for one of them to open the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Stepping inside, she fought to keep her surprise from showing.

When Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody taught the previous year, the room had been organized much like all the others in the school: tables wide enough to seat two arranged in neat rows and chairs behind them facing the front of the room, where there had been a desk the grizzled man had sat at while he lectured to them. Now, however, the desks were gone, the chairs lined up against the walls, and in the middle of the otherwise empty space was a large, low-slung table, with a couple of inches of sand held between the walls reaching above the surface. Interestingly, the sand was soaked through with magic, and poking at the fabric of the spell, she admitted in the privacy of her own mind it was an intriguing setup. The grains had been charmed to stick together without needing water to moisten them, not enough to form a solid surface, but if she were in the mood, she was sure she could create a truly awesome sand castle.

Other students had already arrived and started choosing seats, naturally dividing themselves so that Lions were on one side of the room and Ravens on the other. Jen and her contingent joined their housemates, and after that it was just a matter of waiting for the next several minutes as the rest of their class trickled in and ignoring that not a few of the Gryffindors were periodically shooting her icy looks. She almost shook her head in disappointment; did they think she had not already realized they were displeased with her?

And more importantly, did they think she really cared?

The clock rang two, yet their illustrious teacher failed to appear. One minute passed, then two, and other Ravenclaws glanced at each other in concern. Before he could make an even worse impression to the assembled fifth-years, James Potter threw the door to his office open and gave them all a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that, folks; there were some last-minute things I had to do that couldn't wait.