Sunday, November 27, 1994

Eighth Floor of Hogwarts Castle

23:38 PM

Percival Ebonwood's POV

Merlin Knows how much I hate patrol duties. You do absolutely nothing for two hours, and of course, I had to have the worst schedule. My Friday nights and Sunday nights were gone. All you do is walk around and go wherever Mrs. Norris points.

No disrespect towards Mrs. Norris; she does a fantastic job, but sometimes she's too much, even for me. Filch—I mean Mr. Norris—was a lot more easy-going than her. She has done a stellar job with an almost 70% reduction in instances of broken curfew, but that meant my job was now boring.

Why am I complaining about her doing a good job? I blame it on the British education system. Both magical and mundane. The British education system has a way of taming down outspoken and smart students. It's an environment that often prioritises conformity over creativity, and compliance over curiosity. Students who once questioned, challenged, and showed enthusiasm for learning often find themselves disillusioned, their spark dulled by a system that emphasises standardised testing and rote memorization over critical thinking and individuality.

In such a system, even when someone does a 'good job,' it's often within the confines of these restrictive parameters. Success is measured by grades and adherence to the curriculum, rather than innovation and original thought. This can lead to a sense of frustration and dissatisfaction, as the very qualities that should be nurtured and celebrated—such as creativity, critical thinking, and individuality—are stifled. This is one of the things I remedied with the reintroduction of the Extended Project Qualification.

The irony lies in the fact that while the system produces competent and capable individuals, it often does so at the cost of their potential for true intellectual and personal growth. The brightest minds, instead of being encouraged to shine and explore, are often directed towards fitting a mould.

Our education systems lead us towards a generation of individuals who might be well-educated, but not necessarily well-inspired or well-prepared to think outside the box and challenge the status quo. Why am I letting my mind wander? I am here for a reason. The portraits informed me of a student entering the astronomy tower and three students entering a classroom without authorisation.

Going up the atrsonomy tower was a trek and a half. I can't remember the last time. Wait, I can, and that's a story I'm not willing to tell. The view at the top with the waning cresent was a sight to behold. It was as if Lady Magic were smiling down upon us on this auspicious night. The yellow smile on the black canvas looked irregular but felt appropriate.

The reason I was sent here was because of the boy sitting at the edge of the tower. I approached slowly and sat down next to him. He had a melancholy aura that was the polar opposite of the surrounding.

"You know, I love differential equations. Solving them, not sleeping with them," I said as I managed to get a chuckle out of the boy. "A coupled second order differential or a non-homogenous second order differential are my cup of tea. I'm pretty sure I could solve it with my eyes closed. Do you know why I love second order differential equations? I love its complexity, and its simplicity."

"What does that have to do with anything? I can't understand what you're saying. How could I? I am the dumb comic relief," the boy replied. "And what are differential equations?"

"Differential equations are trickly little devils that have a lot to do with differentiation and integration. They're often about rates of change or population. Do you know why I love second order differential equations? It's a process. At the start, it's a horrible jumble of numbers and letters, but as you do it, you find it's not that different from solving quadratic equations. That brings me a fun little pun my tutor told me. We had just finished first order differential equations and were about to start second order. She then said, "You liked the first order of differentials, so you came back for seconds?'. It makes me laugh all the time," I said as I saw the boy getting frustrated. "Sorry, off-topic. Look, Neville, what I'm trying to get across is that I don't understand you. I don't understand what you're going through, and I probably never will. It's just like if I gave you a question and expected you to give me an answer. It's not possible. I don't know what you're going through, but maybe, in all my infinite lack of emotional intelligence, one of my ideas can help you. What's the saying? If you throw enough shit at a wall, one will eventually stick. Use me as a wall, but don't use actual shit."

That did get a chuckle out of the boy.

"I'm going to meet my parents for the first time this week. Like, actually meet them when they can recognise me and move around. This is the first time I will be able to speak with them. I don't know what to do. What do I say? What should I say?"

"Why don't you start with 'Hi, my name is...'? That's always a good place to start."

"They know my name."

"How do you start a conversation with somebody you just met?"

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"'Hi, my name is...', oh, okay. Start from the beginning. Is that what you're saying?"

"That's where I would start from."

"Thanks."

"No problem," I said as I got up. "It's a lovely view tonight. Make sure you get to bed before midnight. Goodnight Neville."

"Goodnight Percy."

After saying goodbye, I headed to the fifth floor to find the second source of disturbance reported by the portraits. This one was... odd, to say the least: a couple from the year below and a girl that would not be associated with that social circle. Some of the portraits were giggling like schoolgirls. I reckon I know where this is going.

As I approached the classroom, I saw candlelight flutter under the door. There was the familiar smell of latex and leather, and I could hear voices that definitely weren't for children. Oh, dear me, why did I have to have this shift?

As I reached the door, the voices became clearer. "That's so good! Keep it up!" one of them exclaimed, followed by a low grunt of approval from another. The third voice, a bit higher-pitched, chimed in, "Harder! Faster! Yes, just like that. Don't stop!"

I paused, hesitating, before opening the door. The moans and groans were getting louder, and I could hear the occasional smack of leather against something firm. This wasn't the kind of scene you would expect to find in a classroom.

Steeling myself, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. "What's going on in here? 20 points deducted from all of you!"

Three heads snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. There, in the middle of the room, the couple and the girl were bent over a large wooden table. Tools and pieces of leather were scattered around them. The couple's hands were deep into the work of creating a saddle, pulling and shaping the leather. The girl was holding a piece of the saddle in place while they worked on it.

"Oh, uh, hi!" said the boy, his face flushed from the effort of pulling a strap taut. "We didn't hear you come in. We're just... working on this saddle. It's for our horse."

The girl in the relationship nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "It's hard work, but very satisfying. This is Mary's first time helping us."

Mary, the other girl, grinned. "It's really fun! I never knew making a saddle could be so... intense."

I'm pretty sure I short-circuited for a few moments. "Well, carry on, I guess. Just keep it down a bit, alright? The portraits are getting the wrong idea. And do clean up soon. Mrs. Norris is coming to close all the classrooms in about ten minutes. Professor Flitwick will deal with you if you want to appeal the point deduction."

They laughed, a bit embarrassed but clearly enjoying their task. I closed the door behind me as I left. Merlin be dammed, I might need a drink and some bleach to wash my dirty mind.

Tuesday, November 29, 1994

Potion's Classroom, Basement of Hogwarts Castle

12:56 PM

Percival Ebonwood's POV

"You would be correct. This poison could definitely harm a dragon. It can cause necrosis on the skin and kill it from the inside, but again, this is a very unlikely outcome. You can't force a dragon to drink it. They would be able to smell the Nightshade and the Blue Jasmine," Professor Prince said. "Any ideas on how to apply it? Mr. Christensen?"

"We could dilute it," the crown replied as the professor gestured to him to continue. "We could use distilled water or water from a source. That way, the concentration of Nightshade and Blue Jasmine is lowered, and the scent is less noticeable."

"If you do 'zat, you are better off trying to mask the odour," Fleur said out loud.

"Miss Delacour, raise your hand next time you want to contribute, but continue," Professor Prince said.

"We could add standard sent remover into the cauldron before brewing. Also, Smith et al. released a paper saying that a prolonged diet involving geese blood would reduce a dragon's ability to smell and hear. I'm sure there's a way to concentrate a large amount of geese blood into the poison," Fleur said.

"It is possible, but too much effort for such little gain," Professor Prince said. "Your solution requires premeditated actions that may not be available. If you met a dragon right now, what are the chances that they are on a geese blood diet? Another solution. Ebonwood, go."

"I would use some sort of mutilation curse to create an open wound and try injecting it into the bloodstream. The mutilation curse should be sufficiently strong enough to cut a section of skin that is not armoured and is closed to a major circulatory vein or lymph node," I replied.

"The only place that meets your cirteria is either the eyes or the reverse scale. If the poison enters any one of these places, the dragon is almost guaranteed to die," Mary said.

"Not almost, certain. You're better off using a paralysing potion in this scenario," Professor Prince said.

"What if we also dilute it like Christensen said? That should reduce the chances of death, right?" I asked.

"It certainly does, but it also makes the dragon invalid. The blood would have circulated around its body enough to make the whole carcass unusable and unsalvageable. But you have made a crucial mistake. Can anyone spot it?" the professor asked.

"The method of delivery," Fleur said as she raised her hand. The professor nodded, and Fleur continued. "By going for either of those two spots, the dragon would go feral. The likelihood of you getting close enough to inject it into the bloodstream is close to zero."

"What if you changed the method of delivery to a gas?" Mary interrupted.

"Good. Two points to Hufflepuff for your suggestion. One point from Hufflepuff for shouting out. Continue."

"We could place it in a forced circulation evaporator to turn it into mist. We could create a dome of poison and force the dragon to stay there while its wound gets infected," Mary said.

"By the time the wound gets infected, the wound will have healed," the professor said.

Fleur raised her hand this time. The professor acknowledged her as she started talking. "What if you use a less dilute form for the dome and a more dilute form to inject into the blood stream? We could use a wind spell to aim the less diluted mist into the wound."

"That would very much work. The mist would work as a potent paralysis potion, and as long as the injected amount is not too concentrated, the carcass would be usable. However, I suggest you also do what Miss Delacour suggested and also find a way to mask the odour. Apart from that, well done," the professor said as he nodded and walked towards the front of the room. "Remember your assignments due for my next lesson. The person with the lowest mark will have to teach first year Ravenclaws how to brew a hair replenishing potion."

"Ugh," came from one of the students at the back.

"Should that be first year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors?" the professor asked as the room kept silent. "I think it should be. Congratulations! Whoever that was, you just made yourself a public enemy. Stregobor will be taking your next potion lesson, and it will be held in Greenhouse No. 4. You are dismissed."