Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 17:8

"Today we cover two separate, but distinctly related topics — Banshees and Jinxes."

Parsimonae gave a resounding clap, and a scroll of canvas as tall as the runic stone unfurled from the ceiling joists. All of them cringed and shrieked as they were faced with the drawing of a ghostly woman with hauntingly white eyes. Her body coiled and contorted in a frantic, abnormal manner, her wispy hair sparking out in every direction, as if she were being permanently jolted by electrifying spells. As time went on, she screamed soundlessly at them.

"The illustration before you is of a Banshee. Now, do not be misled by the figure seen here. Banshees are, in many cases, quite alluring in appearance. But out of all the drawings in the archives of the Hogwarts library, this particular image seemed to best capture the true nature of the being. She is often seen as a young woman with streaming auburn hair, wearing a green, woolen dress and a grey cloak fastened about her shoulders. She has also been observed in the formal tunic that wizards once placed on their dead.

"When the Banshee is not seen, she is heard. Always at night, and always when someone is soon to die," he said, pausing to allow the class a chance to exhale. "No, she is not a killer herself. The Banshee is but a messenger of death, her white eyes laced with blood from the endless tears she has spilt for the families with whom she is connected. Some once held that her presence was the cause of these deaths, when she merely foretells the inevitable. The families of the departed have come to accept her appearance as a sign of reverence for the life yet to be snuffed out. But do not be deceived, she is never welcomed.

"The Banshee paces the hills, her sharp wails piercing the night air. It's...rather frightening. Many have said that she owes allegiance to five bloodlines, bound to them alone, but the writings on this are unclear," said their new professor, as he gazed up at the ghoulish drawing. "Often the Banshee arrives months, or even days before the death is to take place, but it is not until the actual demise of the witch or wizard that you can detect her ear-splitting cry. Rumor has it, King James the First was followed by the same Banshee every winter until his death in fourteen hundred and thirty-seven. Those of us who enjoy a bit of magical history may recall King James the First as the Child King, a wizard who did terrible acts of violence against his own kind. He published a lengthy tome on the subject, and even altered the laws of the Muggle people to achieve his ends."

Angelina raised her hand. "Has anyone ever caught a Banshee?"

"I don't believe so," said Professor Parsimonae. "No one knows how a Banshee would react if provoked. Even if some absurd writers, like Gilderoy Lockhart, claim to have done so."

The twins shared a look as they recalled the ridiculous man who had sashayed down the staircase at the Hogs Head Inn, buying drinks for everyone, convinced that he would soon be offered the teaching post for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The investigator's cautious eyes flitted over the room, noticing that a few of them, namely Alicia Spinnet and Muriel Baxter, were shivering in fear. Some of the more disbelieving students wore a skeptical expression.

"The fact of the matter is, Banshees are entirely real. If you're not a believer, you may ask my son. Although Ian seems intent on spreading lies about some family treasure, he will surely attest to the existence of Banshees. He knows firsthand. Banshees have always climbed their way across the Parsimonae family tree. We've seen and heard one for every death throughout our family history. Well, nearly every death." He paused, reflectively. "My grandfather went missing, and there was no Banshee sighting...meaning that, according to the nature of this being, the old fool must be skulking through Great Britain somewhere."

He clasped his hands behind his back and strolled up to the runic stone. "It is vital to remember, as a Magical Investigator, that every mystery has a resolution just waiting to be discovered. And strange disappearances always have a meaning. Take my position as your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As you've just learned, Banshees signify the end of life. If there were Banshees for the end of a teacher's post at Hogwarts, you would all be certain to witness a Banshee at the close of this year," he paused to take a steadying breath. "Because I will be gone."

Murmurs wove through the classroom, growing louder and louder by the second.

"Of course, I'm not predicting my death — at least I hope that's not the case," said Parsimonae with a wry chuckle. "I mean that I will not be at the castle next September. Believe me, I would like to be your professor, but something will certainly stop me from retaining the position. In fact, if Banshees did arrive at the close of a teacher's time at Hogwarts, you would have seen them roaming the grounds every year for the last fifty. What I am about to share with you is something no other Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would dare tell his students — something your superiors are disinclined even to whisper, in fear that the very utterance could cause it to materialize. But I assure you, this is a widely-accepted theory in the wizarding community...and the very reason no one was willing to take the job. This teaching post is cursed. Or, more appropriately, jinxed."