Chapter- 78 : Revival

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The office of the Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority was of a moderate size but filled with mementos of a long life spent in service to the Ministry. Awards hung on plaques and sat on shelves, a large bookcase was filled to the brim with tomes of such similarity to each other that they could hardly be anything but volumes of the same set – probably law books. They businesslike atmosphere was offset by pictures of several generations of the same family, the men, women and children smiling and waving happily from their frames. The defining aspect of the office, however, was a person; her position behind her antique oak desk looking natural as if the rest of the office had simply grown around her in time.

By any standard you would care to set Madam Griselda Marchbanks was ancient. She looked old enough to have been there when the tree that would become her antique desk was planted as a sapling, yet fierce enough to have been the one to cut it down to size herself. Most imposing was the authority she radiated, born of more than a century of overseeing the exams of unruly children who would take advantage of the slightest lapse in attention to cheat and make a mockery of her job.

Currently she was staring at Harry through narrowed eyes from under one imperiously raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean N.E.W.T. exams in Divination?"

Harry took a deep breath and tried not to fidget. He'd asked for this meeting for two very important reasons and he needed this woman on his side. "Exactly that, ma'am. Hogwarts invited students to continue Divination beyond O.W.L. level and several have already signed up. For the first time in decades there will be N.E.W.T. students in the course and I need to know what to teach them. The most straightforward way seemed to ask those who will be administering the tests."

Madam Marchbanks blinked and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hogwarts hasn't had such a class since Dumbledore was a student and I examined him myself. The Divination N.E.W.T. is completely unsuited for a classroom environment."

Harry frowned. "How so?"

"Because it's more of an aptitude test than anything else," she said, scrunching up her nose. "The N.E.W.T. grade is assigned based on how in touch a Seer is with his or her talent. There just aren't enough Seers to fill a class with and on top of that each of their talents is personal so there is no overarching curriculum."

"Such is the case nowadays, yes," Harry said carefully before unfolding his prepared argument, "but it wasn't always so. Divination is a vast field and before it was whittled down to just Divining at O.W.L. level there were many more skills taught and tested. Seers that spent the time cultivating their talents have always been awarded a N.E.W.T. for their efforts, but that wasn't always the only skill worthy of a passing grade." He withdrew a book from the satchel at his side and slid it across the desk to her. "I have spent a lot of time preparing for my new role as professor and it has been eye-opening, to say the least."

Hesitantly Madam Marchbanks opened Opening the Inner Eye: An Introduction to Divination at the bookmark he had placed within and her eyes roved over the page.

The more she read, the more taken aback she looked until her frown of displeasure turned to one of worry bordering on disbelief. "Are you certain this is accurate instead of tripe written by a fraud looking to make a few quick galleons?"

Harry smiled faintly. "You are holding the assigned course material for the Divination elective for third year Hogwarts students in the early eighteenth century."

She stared at him long and hard before she pinched her lips and snatched a blank piece of parchment from a stack, scratching away with her quill before folding it closed and handing it to him.

"Take this to the parchment pit down the hall and then come back here," she snapped in no-nonsense tone.

Harry was on his feet and halfway out the door before he even registered he was blindly obeying the woman and by then it was too late to protest being given orders like a child. He shook his head and smiled faintly as he imagined Fudge in her office and what the woman could get him to do if only she used that tone of voice more often.

The records room was helpfully recognisable by an overly large sign hanging from the hallway ceiling. A busy-looking wizard with glasses and a goatee sat reading behind a counter as if guarding a dam meant to separate the cavern filled with parchment behind him from the outside world.

Harry tapped his knuckles on the solid wood, causing him to look up. "Excuse me. Madam Marchbanks sent me to the 'parchment pit'. I'm assuming that's here?"

The eye roll he made made the man look years younger. "What's the old biddy want now?"

Harry shrugged and handed over the note.

He unfolded it impatiently before blurting incredulously, "She wants all of them?"

Harry helpfully shrugged a second time. "Don't know what it says. She barked and I obeyed, really."

A snort was his response, followed by a head shake. "That's usually how it goes with her." He sighed. "Wait here while I go get the stuff."

He disappeared in the back only to emerge ten minutes later with a handful of parchment-coloured cubes in the palm of his hand that he handed over. "You tell her we're called 'Records', and that I was surprised we even had anything from before her time. I didn't know writing had been invented back then."

The inter-office banter helped to get rid of a little of the tension Harry still felt at being ordered around like an errant little boy by the formidable woman. If the people on this floor felt comfortable enough to tease her like that she must not be as frightening as she appeared.

He knocked a second time for propriety's sake but she irritably barked for him to stop wasting time and enter already. Harry took his seat across from her again and casually lobbed the parchment-coloured cubes onto the desk.

Madam Marchbanks didn't waste any time and cast a spell at one of them. Suddenly Harry's sight of her was obscured by a pile of parchment as tall as it was wide. He shifted his chair a little to the side so that he could at least see her as she efficiently started sifting through the pile.

"What crack did they make at my age this time?" she asked distractedly.

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If you're eager to delve deeper into the story, consider joining my Patreon for exclusive content and early access to new chapters

50+Advanced Chapters there.

(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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