Michael Corner and The Education of Wizards

Michael Corner and The Field of Daisies

There was lots of news over the summer, and it was all bad. There was lots of news because Mum had revived her subscription to The Daily Prophet and it was all bad because that was all the Prophet ever wrote about.

Dad's papers didn't seem to be much better but at least Mum and I knew why the news was so bad.

'Seems to be nothing but disaster after disaster,' said Dad. 'It's statistically improbable that all these things should happen all at the same time.'

'Well, sometimes statistics don't tell you everything,' said Mum. She had cast a mild calming charm over him and they had patched up their disagreement. When I got home for the holidays they were on the verge of breaking up, but she told me that it was too dangerous for him to away from her protection. She also told me that it was very hard not being able to tell him about things or what she was doing. He didn't like magic and didn't like the way it could mess with his head.

But he didn't know the half of it. Rumours had spread among the wizarding community that the Death Eaters were targeting the Muggle partners of wizards and witches. The Ministry roundly denied the rumours, which meant that everyone believed them and Mum was very worried about Dad because he would be totally defenceless.

There was a specific cause of tension that morning, so low level bickering was actually quite a welcome light relief.

It was Results Day.

Dad might not have understood too much about magic but, boy, did he understand results. He was Centenary Professor of Economics at the University of Thirsk and his students' results were his bread and butter. He may not have really got his head around the fact that some of our post was delivered by Ione, Mum's owl, but he understood why I kept jumping up and looking out of the window.

'Calm down,' he said. 'They won't get here any faster if you keep looking for them.'

'I can see her,' said Mum. And I leapt to the window again.

I have never see an owl fly so slowly. I felt I had aged a hundred years before she swept in through the open window and dropped the fat envelopes on Mum's lap before settling on her shoulder to be fed Owl Treats.

Mum gave me the one from Hogwarts without a word.

I was trembling so much that I could hardly open the letter. Why couldn't they have envelopes made of ordinary paper instead of this stupid parchment?

Then it was out, and the words and letters swam in front of my eyes.

Eventually it got through to me. All passes. I felt my shoulders slowly relax from their position round my ears.

Mostly good passes, too. Outstanding in Potions and DADA. Thanks, Harry. Outstanding in Charms, which would please The Proflet, and Divination, which must be a mistake. It must be something that was going to happen in the future. Of all the subjects, that was the one I expected to fail. I made most of it up. I must have hidden talents. Exceeds Expectations in the rest except for Care of Creatures with Acceptable, but that didn't matter as I wasn't going on with it.

I sat back, slightly breathless and closed my eyes.

'Alright?' said Dad.

'Yeah, not bad,' I said.

'Can't think why you were nervous,' he said with a grin.

Mum held her hand out for the letter and scanned it. 'Better than mine,' she said. 'Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts,' she said. 'That's fortunate. Isn't that the one they refused to teach you?'

'Refused to teach you?' said Dad. 'How can they refuse to teach you?'

'We had a new professor,' I said. 'She only wanted to each us basic theory and no practical stuff at all. And it's a practical subject.'