Chapter 2: Hello, Isobel

The boys, who were just at the door, turned and what they saw was another ghost.

She was tall and slender, with a nice womanly figure, and looked to be in her upper twenties. She had what appeared to be brown hair, pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. And, well, they couldn't tell what her eye color was because it was so bleached out, so they had probably once been a light blue or green. She was dressed in formal teaching robes and had a ghost of a ruler in her right hand and was tapping it into the palm her left hand. The three boys slumped back into their seats.

"My name is Isobel Watts, I was a Ravenclaw here in the late 1960's, early 1970's," she stated, looking around the class as they all started to settle.

This bit of information perked Harry right up. She had gone to school with his parents. He only knew things from their perspective, maybe she could tell him something different about them. Like what others thought of them. Or how the teachers felt about them. Many things that his parents couldn't answer without bias. He would have to ask her after class.

"I studied for years to be the Professor of Magical History. However, before I could take the position I was killed by Voldemort during his reign of terror." She ignored the gasps. "I received an O on my NEWT's. Nastily Exhausting Wizards Test, you'll take them to graduate," she explained seeing the confused looks. "And I studied as an apprentice after graduating. It was right before I was to take my test for my Masters, that I was killed. It is thanks to my good friend, Sally, I'll be taking over for this class. Now, everyone, settle down and open your books to chapter fourteen."

The class realized she was going to be just as strict as McGonagall, so they did what they were told, and the room was filled with noises of books being brought out and opened.

"Excuse me, professor, but what happened to Professor Binns?" Hermione asked as she raised her hand but didn't wait to be acknowledged.

"He went on his next great adventure," the ghost answered with a soft smile. "I do not believe he knew he was dead, so my friend, Sally, let him know this fact and he moved on. But we are not here to discuss that, this is History," she said a bit firmer.

"Thank you, Professor Watts," Hermione said as she poised to take notes, her book already opened to the correct page. She really wanted to know who Sally was, but from the finality in the professor's voice, she figured it would have to wait for an answer.

"Who is Sally?" a few students muttered, not wanting to speak loudly.

"Sally is also a ghost. She was wandering by and noted the class seemed bored and called me," the teacher said, tapping her ruler in her hand.

"Oh," those that asked mumbled, then got their note taking utensils ready.

"Now, pay attention we do not have much time." Isobel said as she glanced at the clock. Her lesson would take a while. "We will be studying the last two dark lords," she said, and flipped through her notes, which unlike Binns were fresh.

There was a collective gasp as quills started scratching on parchment.

"Gellert Grindelwald was born 1882," the lecture began, adapted from the textbook, "and was considered one of the most powerful Dark Wizards of all time, second only to Tom Marvolo Riddle, who later became known as Lord Voldemort," she said and glared at the gasps coming from some of her class. "Please refrain from doing that. I will be saying his name often."

The class blushed, most of them did anyway. Others were putout about being called out. Still others, were happy that someone was putting a stop to that nonsense.

"Mr. Grindelwald," the professor resumed, "was schooled at Durmstrang Institute until he was expelled. History is not sure why, though rumor has it that it was for practicing the Dark Arts on students and faculty."

"What's Durmstrang?" Hermione questioned, after raising her hand.

"The Durmstrang Institute is a wizarding school in the European Union. It is notorious for teaching the Dark Arts," Isobel answered, nodding at the insightful question. "They believe it is located in either the northernmost regions of Norway or Sweden. No one is exactly sure where; they tend to keep it a secret. Durmstrang has, however, taught students from as far afield as Bulgaria," she explained, remembering this was a class of first years, some of whom had never heard of magic until maybe six months ago.

Not only that, but Geography is also new to many of them. Purebloods tended to teach close to home. Foreign schools and other things were glossed over. The purebloods probably knew about Durmstrang but didn't know about Russia.

She knew where it was, as all ghosts did, but it wasn't their secret to tell.

Professor Watts looked around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention and noticed that Miss Granger's hand was once again in the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?" she said, repressing a sigh.

"So, Mr. Grindelwald wasn't raised in England?" the little girl asked, wondering why Dumbledore fought a foreign enemy.

"No, he was raised overseas," came the answer. "Though he does have relatives here."

"Why did the headmaster fight him then? I mean, not that we're not thankful, but couldn't another wizard have defeated him? Someone from the continent?" she asked, confusion laced her voice.

"I will be explaining that soon," the spirit said, looking down her nose a bit in a very steady glare for the interruption. Then she sighed and smile. "I understand it is confusing, but I will get there in a few minutes. Sometimes it pays to wait a while. Your questions are usually answered in the lecture. I don't want to dissuade you from seeking knowledge, but hold off a bit, okay?"

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said a bit abashed and then waited, ignoring the looks she was getting.

"Later, when Grindelwald was visiting his relative, his great-aunt Bathilda Bagshot, he fostered a friendship with Albus Dumbledore," the professor continued, "who both lived in Godric's Hollow."

Once more Hermione's hand shot in the air, it just wasn't in her nature to sit and listen. She wanted to know everything and sometimes she was just too impatient to wait.

The professor sighed and nodded to the girl. She was really going to have to speak to the child.

"Isn't Godric's Hollow where the Potters were killed?" the ever-inquisitive child asked, only to feel bad when Harry gasped beside her. She shot him an apologetic look and small tears filled her eyes at the hurt she saw on his face. "Sorry," she mouthed.

He gave her a tight nod in return and then focused on the teacher, but there was a telltale wetness in the corner of his eyes.

"Perhaps you should have asked a bit more tactfully. However, to answer your question, yes. We will learn about the heroic deeds of the Potters in another class," the teacher said sternly. Her eyes softened when she saw Harry flinch. She would have to take the child aside and explain that his parents were history and needed to be discussed.

"Sorry, Professor," the girl child said as she hung her head. She glanced to the side and saw Harry fighting tears and felt really bad.

He gave her a watery smile and patted her hand in forgiveness.

"Now, the two young men, Grindelwald and Dumbledore, made plans to find the Deathly Hallows…" Isobel said, and then she paused seeing more blank looks from half the class. "The Deathly Hallows are said to be three highly powerful magical objects supposedly created by Death and given to each of three brothers in the Peverell family. This was said to have happened in the thirteenth century. They consisted of the Elder Wand, an immensely powerful wand that was considered undefeatable, though its bloody history, belies that rumor. The Resurrection Stone, a stone which could summon the spirits of the dead and makes the one who did the summoning die of despair. Then there is the Cloak of Invisibility, which, as its name suggests, renders the user completely invisible to everyone, including Death. We will learn about the Perevells in another class," she said, ignoring the grumbles, but was glad to hear the scrabbling of quills.

Sally was tittering in the background, her hands over her mouth and her shoulders shaking. Professor Watts almost smiled. She knew more about the Deathly Hallows than anyone, so she knew how wrong the story was.