Chapter 262: The Real Classroom was Inside You All Along
Oleandra had mixed feelings about History of Magic. On one hand, it was dreadfully boring, but on the other, it was like a free period to practise whatever you wished, as the class's teacher, the ghost Professor Binns, did not pay any attention to what his students did in his class— which was mostly sleeping, as it turned out.
And do whatever she wished was precisely what Oleandra did; and thus, a lesson within a lesson began.
"The classical element of water is often associated with purity and healing," Viviane explained. "As guardian of the lakes, it is of the utmost importance for you to know purification and healing magic."
In spite of this statement, it did not stop Viviane in the slightest from grumbling about all the wart-ridden Muggle peasants and soldiers she'd needed to heal under King Arthur's rule, or from moaning about all the cows she'd needed to cure from the pox during peacetime.
"Now, Merlin taught me a few powerful spells on top of the ones I already knew," she continued, but not after ranting about milkmaids for a good five minutes. "The Egyptians were rather good at removing curses, and the Greeks invented many healing magics, so we'll go over those first. Now, Asclepius and Galen were the first to…"
Viviane then went on to make Oleandra write down incantation after incantation, and made her draw diagrams of magical manifolds, or what have you. By the end of the class, Oleandra wished she had listened to Professor Binns instead. There was a difference between boring and tedious, and boring and difficult!
"Still, from what you're telling me, you helped a lot of people," Oleandra remarked near the end of the lesson. "Didn't it feel good to help make their lives better?"
"The court intrigue at Camelot was fairly tedious— so I'd often leave the castle, and go back to my lake, whenever there wasn't anything too important going on," said Viviane. "I thought that I might as well lend a hand in my free time, but with word of mouth, it didn't take long for my peaceful lake to become crowded…"
She sighed and closed her eyes, as if to better relive those days, fifteen hundred years ago.
"It wasn't all that bad— I mean, it was nice being appreciated," she admitted. "And I had loads of fun picking on the knights, most of whom had never seen magic before, having lived their lives in obscure corners of the British Isles before answering the King's call to arms when he established the Knights of the Round Table."
Viviane had lived before the Statute of Secrecy had been made into law; back then, magic, Wizards and Witches had more or less been common knowledge among the Muggles. It had been a better time; but Late Antiquity would be the last time that Wizards and Muggles would work hand in hand towards a common goal; that is, right before the Dark Ages…
"Is it just me, or are you trying to convince me to expose magic to the world again?" Oleandra asked suspiciously. "Because I already told you that I wouldn't do it."
"You're the one who brought it up," Viviane said with a shrug. "You wanted to know if I'd enjoyed helping the humans, and I gave you my answer."
Fairies were extremely capricious by nature. One moment, they could be all smiles, and the next, seething with unreasonable rage; they would just as easily heal you as they would curse you. Nevertheless, Oleandra found from their exchange that she understood Viviane a little better. For all of her blustering, Viviane really did have a good heart beneath all the pretentiousness. She may not have fully understood humanity, but she had actually tried her best to create a better future for everyone.
"You said you owned a lake," Oleandra asked after a while. "Is it somewhere close? We could visit, if you'd like—"
"That won't be necessary," Viviane laughed. "I'm touched by the offer, but remember that I'm only a shadow from your past. I'm you, and you are me; so, there's no need to go out of your way for me. But if you really must know, it's in the forest of Brocéliande, in France."
"Isn't that where you told me the first Greengrass lived?" Oleandra exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than she'd meant to. "We should go there this summer for vacation!"
Daphne, who'd so far spent the class resting her head on her desk, sound asleep, awakened with a jolt.
"Already making plans for summer?" she asked blearily, lifting a copy of the Daily Prophet from her head— she'd been using it to cast some shade over her eyes to get some sleep. "I daresay it's a bit early, don't you think? You still have the third task to worry about."
At that moment, the bell rang. The students streamed sluggishly out of the room, ignoring Professor Binns, who was still talking— he hadn't seemed to notice that the class was over. It didn't really seem to matter to him whether he spoke to a room full of drowsy students or an empty room, but neither did it matter to Oleandra and friends, who were already on their way to their next class.
Of course, Oleandra wouldn't be able to listen to Viviane's lessons in every single class; if she dared to lose focus in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration or Potions, then what awaited her was public execution by Jinx, a stern lecture or detention, respectively.
And it wasn't just a matter of those teachers being especially strict; the level of difficulty in class had definitely risen. With much of her time being taken up by Viviane's teachings, Oleandra actually had to seriously put in some effort.
If she had previously struggled in previous years because of her stunted magical growth (thanks a lot, Merlin), now that this problem was resolved, she was experiencing difficulties because of the complexity of the spells themselves, which often required more than just precise wand movements or a quick tongue. The new spells being taught in prevision for their O.W.L. examinations which would take place next year required a precise state of mind, or at least, some number of calculations…
…which was easier said than done when one needed to reserve memory space for the many thousands of Transfiguration incantations for each and every little edge case. Like hedgehog to pincushion, mouse to matchbox, or desk to pig— they all required a precise incantation, and rote memorization; a nightmare for people like Neville!
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