Year Three - Chapter Two

The Year Start feast was a glorious show of food and delicious stuff. The Hat sorted the new first years, and as we got a couple of boys and girls looking pretty much as amazed as I had been in my first year. My eyes scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces, even as I didn't bother with much else but the food in my plate at first.

Dumbledore took the word at the end, further warning about the danger of the Dementors and how they should not be challenged. Something told me he was looking at me when he said that, but it wasn't like I had gone looking for the challenge. Well, no, I had. If I had been a kind, gentle student who stuck in his corner of woe and misery, perhaps they'd have left me in peace after peeking in.

I had felt the need to open my big mouth, and that had been the result. Still, it didn't change my plans.

There were however whispers about the DADA curse being broken, something about the sight of Remus Lupin at the professors' desk, though the sickly professor had a pale complexion, and Snape's face looked like that of a man having eaten acidic slugs.

It was that kind of face. The kind of face you didn't want to see on your worst enemy, because it meant they were planning some kind of horrific torture on your loved ones.

I wondered if this year, during Snape's substitutions of Professor Lupin, we'd get to learn about Werewolves and their abilities.

Arithmancy was under the tutelage of Professor Vector, professor Septima Vector, a dark haired woman wearing a bright red robe and a mismatched hat. On the blackboard, letters and numbers were scribbled. Most of them were seemingly obvious at a glance, and it took me little to somehow understand that indeed, what wizards called Arithmancy was nothing more, and nothing less, than Calculus.

"When we mention X and Y in a multiplication with two, which is a simple enough magical output, we request a result that may vary wildly. However, knowing that X and Y together form a fourteen, which is a multiple of Seven, another really powerful magical number, we achieve the unquestioning result that adding two spruces of something, then two more and finally seven, the potion's results is a quadrantastic-" she droned on.

She droned on, and I listened keenly. I could see Hermione's frizzy hair in the first row, but I had taken the middle row instead, Megan scribbling down notes by my side. The elective classrooms weren't tied to a single House, but merely split depending on someone's surname if there truly were too many students to teach. Though that was normally not the case, like in Arithmancy, where only the foolish and the brave dared to venture.

"Remember that judging a Three by the looks of Seven will only yield a Four at most," the professor droned on, sharply taking in the class for any signs of whispers. "Numbers must be given truthfully, and from them one can elaborate a future-for example, Mister Umbrus-"

"I refuse," I said sharply, much to the professor's sudden consternation. "You will pry my fate from my cold dead hands, professor."

The professor's appearance didn't change an inch. She merely nodded. "Some will rather not know what their future reserves them, but rest assured that this is no mere prophecy. It is merely a gamble on the probabilistic vector of the influence of numbers in one's life," she continued. "Even if the numbers involved in your life were to determine a future, it would merely be a possibility, and not a certainty. Prophecies are recorded in the hall of prophecies at the ministry of magic, and rest assured, no arithmancy prediction has ever been recorded there. It is not magic; it's scientific magic."

I blinked at that nugget of knowledge. I hesitate ever so briefly, "Then, if that's the case..." I mumbled, "All right."

"Very well," professor Vector nodded. "Your month of birth and the day you were born, Mister Umbrus."

"March, nine?" I said, watching as the professor scribbled those down on the blackboard.

"Finally, your name," professor Vector scribbled it down, taking a peek at the class registry. "Now, to find the Magical Number of someone's name, we must substitute each letter with a number, ranging from A for one and moving down."

The result on the blackboard was eerily bizarre.

U=21 M=13 B=2 R=18 U=21 S=19 S=19 H=8 A=1 D=4 E=5

"Then, we must sum the numbers among themselves," professor Vector continued, summing the numbers together the first time. The result was 131, "Which, again, gives us the number Five."

I furrowed my brows. "So now that we have a Nine, a Three and a Five, we can reasonably infer, depending on the arithmetic chart presented, that you will either be bound by an unshakable grim fate that will mar your present forever, or that you will face a great tragedy soon, which will change your habits."

I swallowed. "I would have rather not have done this, if both options suck this bad."

Someone chuckled in the background.

"These are merely probability, but if it can console you, there is no mention of dying in either of them," professor Vector continued. "The same cannot be said for Professor Trelawney's predictions." The scoff in her voice was pretty clear, sharp, and quick.

Still, as the lesson came to an end, I began to wonder about the possibility that it had all just been a parlor trick of sorts. Then again, the best way to deal with prophecies was just to live with them, and let them be. Also, one never had to curse someone's killer, less they end up discovering they are that killer and married their mothers too. It would be best if that didn't happen, yes.

"So," I said as I walked by Megan's side, "Interesting lesson."

"Yeah, really, being told you're going to go through a bad period is such a great way of starting the school year," Megan replied with a giggle, shaking her head. "That was a bit mean, wasn't it? She could have said something else, maybe something nicer."

"Better an uncomfortable truth to a kind lie," I hummed, "Perhaps that's what the professor thought. And hey, as long as I don't give it any weight, it's going to be all right," I shrugged as I said that, and we reached the Transfiguration classroom for the next lesson. There we linked up with both Amanda and Wayne, the two coming from their own electives, I reckoned.

There, we practiced the Lapifors' spell and delivered the summer homework. As the lesson ended, professor McGonagall stopped me. "Mister Umbrus," she said as the classroom emptied, "Stay behind for a moment."

I nodded, and waved goodbye to the trio of friends. "I'll catch up later," I said, grinning as they went their way. "Yes, professor?" I asked as soon as the last student had left the room.

"From this year, students are allowed to head to Hogsmeade," Professor McGonagall spoke. "However, due to your circumstances, there is no guardian who can sign your permission slip, thus it falls on the school to decide whether you are responsible enough to be allowed."

I nodded. I didn't know whether I'd be allowed or not to go, but I highly chanced on being allowed to, since after all-

"The Headmaster decided that it would be best if you didn't go," Professor McGonagall continued, looking chagrined.

I stared at the professor as if she had grown a second head. "The headmaster said I wouldn't?" I mouthed, "But...can I know why, at least, please?"

It looked hard for Professor McGonagall to say it, but in the end, she said it all the same. "The Headmaster is worried, Mister Umbrus, that you might hunt down Black in order to once more...adjust the points," her lips thinned ever so slightly, "Black is a dangerous criminal, a mass-murderer, and a very powerful wizard."

"B...But I killed a Basilisk," I muttered, "Shouldn't that-"

"A basilisk cannot use the Unforgivables to kill or torture you, Mister Umbrus," Professor McGonagall snapped back curtly, her eyes stern and in her professor's mode. "And I do not think you will be allowed to bring the Headmaster's phoenix around with you in Hogsmeade." She added the last part gently, "Thus, there will be no signed permission to head to Hogsmeade, Mister Umbrus."

I took a deep breath, and then I quietly nodded. "I understand, professor," I said in a whisper-like voice. "I guess I'll have more time to practice transfiguration. This year we're turning things into dragons, right?" I smiled as I said that, quite the awkward, strained smile.

"Indeed," she nodded curtly. "Now off you go, Mister Umbrus," she continued. "And remember to stay within the castle's grounds. The Dementors patrol the borders, and the Forbidden forest."

"I understand, professor," I said with a nod, leaving for my next class.

Care for Magical Creatures with Hagrid...

...also know as 'Protect your body's extremities, in the name of all that is holy'.