Bab 139: Imposter, Delegation, Small Talk
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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]
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Just as Quinn had predicted, Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
"But... but you said it was illegal, Professor," said Marcus, uncertain, as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving ample clear space in the middle of the room. "You said… that to use it against another human was..."
"Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like," answered Moody, his magical eye swiveling on Marcus with an unblinking, eerie stare. "And I've already performed it to West. I should go to Azkaban for all we know. It won't cost me anything to do it again on you.
However, If you'd rather learn the hard way —when someone's attacking you— fine. You're excused. Off you go."
Marcus hung his head and walked back in defeat. Quinn rested his elbow on his shoulder. "You're overthinking about it. Relax a little. It will be over before you know it."
"W-What if he asks me to do something horrible?" asked Marcus, his forehead sweating with anxiety he was feeling.
"You'll be fine," said Eddie chiming in. Unlike Marcus, he didn't seem worried. "Whatever he does, it won't be worse than you almost fainting and wetting your pants in front of the Banshee Boggart."
"L-Like you're any better. Who was the one to clean his bed for a week after seeing a Boggart becoming his mum," quipped Marcus.
Quinn couldn't help it. A short laugh escaped him despite trying to hold it in. He turned his head away, but Eddie could see Quinn shaking in laughter.
"Oh, shut up!" spat Eddie, his cheeks pink. The Boggart becoming his mum had scared him enough to clean up for an entire week.
The timid and gentle Ravenclaw seemed to have forgotten his anxiety and worries about being subjected to the Imperius Curse. His shoulders were no longer tense and the pallor of his skin was improving.
'I wonder if the Ministry knows about this,' thought Quinn, wondering whether Dumbledore had informed the Ministry about this teaching method or not. 'Well, I hope the Ministry won't interfere. He is a good teacher, I guess.'
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Quinn watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Eddie hopped three times around the room, yelling out the lyrics of his favorite song. Katie Brown imitated a grumpy cat. Marcus performed a series of quite astonishing dance moves he would certainly wouldn't have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody removed it.
"West," called out Moody as students walked out at the end of the class. "Stay back. I want to talk to you."
Quinn gazed at the imposter before gesturing to Eddie and Marcus to go on without him. "I will catch up to you, guys."
Eddie and Marcus exchanged looks before nodding and exiting the classroom with the rest of the students, leaving Quinn and Moody alone in the classroom. The desks were pushed to the side and Moody was standing in the middle.
"Yes, Professor. What do you want to talk about?"
"It's your fifth year, lad. Have you thought about what you want to do in the future? After Hogwarts," asked Moody, his natural eye fixed on Quinn, and surprisingly, the usually restless artificial eye, too.
"... I want to travel the world, Professor. Learn magic and have new experiences," answered Quinn, his eyes trying to see where this was going.
"Hmm, have you thought about becoming an Auror after Hogwarts?" said Moody, as he took out a silver flask from his waist. He pushed it up against his scarred lips and took a swig.
"Auror, Professor?"
"Yes, Auror. We haven't been doing well on recruitment lately. We need some new good blood within our ranks. You being able to shrug off the Imperious along with your grades would make you a perfect candidate," spoke Moody, his eyes darting up and down.
'Oh ho, he certainly is playing his role,' thought Quinn. He found it absolutely hilarious that a disguised Death Eater was recruiting him to become an Auror.
"I haven't thought about being an Auror yet, Professor. From what I have heard, it's a rewarding job, but other than that, I haven't given much thought about becoming an Auror or a Hit Wizard."
"What subjects are you going to take next year?" asked 'Moody'. The man seemed to have gotten used to his new Professor occupation.
"All the subjects that I have now. I'm trying to keep my options open," replied Quinn. He was sure he wouldn't get something below an Outstanding (O).
"Good, good. Give it a thought. We need wizards like you in the force. You never know when the next Dark Lord will come along," nodded Moody, putting on a face of vigilance. "If you ever have any problems, don't hesitate to come to me. I would love to see you grow to your full potential, West. I see a lot of promise in you."
"Thank you, professor," nodded Quinn.
Moody nodded and, without a word, briskly exited the classroom with his wooden leg making distinctive clunking footsteps going up the corridor.
"Trying to build connections, eh, Barty," whispered Quinn, smiling. "I'm Quinn West, all professors love me. I'll play along with you for now."
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- (Scene Break) -
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After finishing their classes, twenty-four students gathered inside a classroom in the Transfiguration wing of Hogwarts. They sat in different parts of the room and divided themselves into groups. The door opened, and Minerva McGonagall and two students entered the classroom.
"Good evening, Prefects. I hope everyone is well," said McGonagall. "Is everybody here? Let's see, ten... eighteen... twenty-four. Excellent, everyone is present."
She walked to the Professor's podium and looked over the four groups and the two students that had come with her; the Head boy and Head girl. They were sitting down in the center of the room.
"As you all are aware, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang shall be arriving in a week, and we will need to make them feel welcomed," said McGonagall, pausing for a second. "As representatives of Hogwarts, you will need, as prefects, to be role models for the entire student body. As such, I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour. Furthermore, make sure that every student follows your lead. It is crucial that we maintain a proper image in the eyes of the delegations. We mustn't show any unsightly behaviour. Especially in front of them."
She gave the twenty-six students a no-nonsense look.
"Am I understood?"
The student representatives silently nodded. No one was willing to crack a joke in front of McGonagall when she was like this.
"Excellent," nodded the Deputy Headmistress. "Moving onto the next topic of this meeting. I need volunteers to help out the foreign students during their stay at Hogwarts. Your responsibility will include: to be an intermediary between them and our students, to answer any questions they have, to guide them through Hogwarts until they are used to the castle, to cater to their needs, and to solve any problems that might arise between them and us."
McGonagall, who was looking at the parchment on the podium, didn't notice that every prefect was giving a discreet glance to one person in the room.
"Any volunteers?" asked McGonagall, looking up from the podium.
A few hands raised in response. All of them were curious about the foreign students, but only a few were confident enough to deal with the responsibilities.
"Good," nodded McGonagall, smiling at the number of raised hands. "Before I assign you into two groups, I want to know if any of you speak either French or Russian or both."
A seventh-year Slytherin girl Prefect that was sitting with the Slytherin group raised her hand.
"Ms. Parlet, which language do you speak?" asked McGonagall.
"I have a question, Professor," said Parlet, lowering her hand. "I understand that Beauxbatons is in France, but Durmstrang's location is unknown. As the students speak Russian, does that mean Durmstrang is in Russia?"
"No, Ms. Parlet. The location of Durmstrang is still unknown. Russian is the language requirement if you want to attend Durmstrang. Students communicate and learn in Russian. It's their lingua franca, so to speak. Whether Durmstrang is in Russia or not? That we don't know."
"It's in Norway," came a voice from the Ravenclaw group of Prefects.
Every pair of eyes in the room, without exception, turned to the voice.
"Mr. West… why do you say so." asked McGonagall, sighing. She knew she wouldn't be able to move on without listening to the answer.
The fifth-year boy Prefect, Quinn West, sitting smack in the middle of the Ravenclaw group, spoke up.
"I believe we should start with the coat of arms in order to figure out the location of this school of magic," The tone of voice and pace of words grabbed the attention of everyone. "There's a double-headed eagle in the Durmstrang coat of arms. And this eagle was the symbol of the Byzantine Empire. Afterwards, Albania, Austria, Germany, Greece, Russia, Serbia took it, too. Another thing we can see is an onion dome which is associated with the architecture of the orthodox church in eastern Europe. Furthermore, the word 'Durmstrang' is written in Latin and Cyrillic alphabet."
Almost everyone in the room except Quinn blinked when he started to lay down some history. Some of them, who noticed Quinn's neutral expression, started to wonder whether this was considered common knowledge or not. It didn't seem so to them, at least.
"Even though we don't know the precise location of Durmstrang, a lot of people have tried to locate the school. From all that effort, we have found with hundred percent certainty that the school is in the north of Scandinavia. That much we already know," quoted Quinn, some knowledge he had gathered. "Given that they will be arriving by ship, we can deduce -"
"Mr. West, how do you know the Durmstrang delegation will be arriving by ship?" asked McGonagall, as she had yet to reveal that piece of information.
"- I have my sources, Professor," answered Quinn offhandedly. "Where was I? Ah, yes. As they will be coming by ship and the fact that the Great Lake is connected to the ocean with waterways, we can assume that the school is near a water body like a sea or an ocean."
The Prefects and the Head pair looked at each other with questions in their eyes. The Great Lake was connected to an ocean? They didn't know that. McGonagall, who noticed the looks, sighed inwardly. This information wasn't restricted so to speak, but it had been kept secret. This had gotten to the point that, aside from a few students, no one knew about that.
"If we put this information together, I can say with reasonable certainty that Durmstrang is in Svalbard, which is a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean. Everything fits. The archipelago was discovered the same century the school was founded. Moreover, for centuries it had been part of the Russian Empire. That is, until the 1920s, when it became Norway's. The population is partially Norwegian and partially Russian, which explains the cultural hints in the symbols of school. And the lands there— there are mountains and lakes! Also, these lands are almost not populated by muggles, which makes it a great place to hide a school of magic."
There were no words spoken after Quinn finished, and except a few short claps from the Hufflepuff group, the room was silent for a moment.
"... Mr. West, do you know how to speak Russian?" asked McGonagall.
"Hmm? Ah, no, Professor, I can't speak Russian," replied Quinn; he wasn't acquainted with Eastern Slavic languages.
McGonagall held back a sigh and took a moment for herself. While the history and theory were fascinating, it wasn't the time for it. The deputy had a lot on her plate, and she needed to finish this meeting quickly so that she could move on.
"Let's get back to the topic. Is there anyone who can speak either French or Russian?"
One arm raised from the crowd, and McGonagall once again held back a sigh, "Yes, Mr. West. What is it?"
"I can speak French, Professor."
"... You can?" asked McGonagall, taken aback.
"Yes, Professor. I'm half French from my mother's side," answered Quinn. "I can speak French with near-native fluency. I can also speak Latin and Italian at a level where I can hold a conversation with a native without any problems. I'm getting Spanish to that level. Just need a little work on it; I need a speaking partner to get some practice. Finally, I added Portuguese to my repertoire last year, but I find speaking it hard. I will probably become fluent by next year."
The romance languages were the languages that had evolved from vulgar Latin between the third and eighth centuries. The six most spoken romance languages were Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, Romanian, and Catalan. Quinn had learned French from his grandfather. Latin on his own because a lot of his books in his library were in Latin. In regards to Italian, he had practiced it together with Lia because their mother spoke it. Finally, he had picked up Spanish and Portuguese because all the Romance languages were quite easy to learn if you knew Latin. As he learned more and more romance languages, it got progressively easier for Quinn to pick them up.
"That's great!" said McGonagall, lethargy disappearing from her face in an instant. "Mr. West, you will be a part of the French group. Please make sure that they don't have any problem."
Quinn took out an A.I.D. card from his pocket, held it with his finger, and with a flick of his wrist, the black card went flying across the room, arching beautifully in mid-air before gracefully landing on the Professor's Podium.
"Way ahead of you, Professor."
McGonagall picked up the card. It was the familiar black card with golden text, but her eyes widened a fraction when she noticed the language. It wasn't English.
"This is..."
"French, Professor," said Quinn. "The Russian cards will arrive here by the end of the week. As I said, I'm not fluent in Russian, so I had to ask a Russian translator to translate the text. The Russians cards will arrive here before the delegations, so we're good."
"I-I see..." said McGonagall. She could almost see it. French and Russian students taking the modified cards and finding the A.I.D. office to solve their problems. "... Mr. West, you... you aren't going to charge them, right?"
Quinn smiled, "If they ask me something that enters in the role of being a Prefect, then no. If they ask the owner of the A.I.D. I'm sure we can work something out. It's just a matter of the services they require, Professor."
"Please make sure to inform them, would you, Mr. West. I don't want complaints from their side," said McGonagall.
"Of course, Professor. Always absolute professionalism."
The meeting ended after McGonagall divided the Prefects into groups. The French delegation with Quinn in it would be led by the Head Girl from Hufflepuff. They had a small meet of their own, before the Prefects would be free for the day, except their routine patrolling.
Quinn was getting out of the Transfiguration wing making his way to his office when his name. He turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging his way towards him.
"Diggory, what can I do for you?" asked Quinn. He and Cedric were acquainted well enough for him to talk to Cedric twice or thrice a week.
"I was going to the fourth floor and wondered if you would walk with me," said Cedric, his patient calm, yet charming smile on his face.
"Of course. There is no need to ask," replied Quinn as Cedric fell into step with him. "So I heard you're going to participate in the tournament."
Cedric was in his sixth year, but since his birthday was after September, he joined a year later and was already of age, making the Hufflepuff seeker eligible to participate in the Triwizard Tournament.
"Wha-! How did you know? I haven't..." asked Cedric, genuinely feeling shocked that Quinn knew about his decision.
"I've my ways, Mr. Diggory," said Quinn with a hint of a smile on his face. "Have you thought it through? From what I've found out, the tournament is going to be dangerous. Are you confident in your abilities?"
Cedric recovered from his shock and nodded with confidence. His body language was screaming that there was no doubt about his participation.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Hmm… Well, right now, all I can do is to wish you luck. The chances are strong though," said Quinn. He took out an A.I.D. card and held it in front of the Hufflepuff.
Cedric was about to politely refuse —as he already had a card with him— but then he saw that it had a new design, so he took it.
"If you ever need anything, anytime, contact me, and I will sort it out," said Quinn as he joined his hands behind his back. "If you get selected as the champion, then you'll get a massive discount. I would help you out at dirt cheap prices. Practically free, I say."
Cedric grinned at those words. He had been to A.I.D. a couple times, and not once he had been disappointed. "I will probably come to practice my spells against you. Who knows, maybe I'll win."
Quin laughed at the statement. Cedric was talented and knew his magic, but his chances were infinitely low in front of him. "Let's keep them private. I don't want my record to be tainted. Need to keep it at sixty-nine, can't have it go to seventy, can I?"
The sixty-nine streak had been paused because of his Lust-infected brain, but Quinn was trying to get over it now.
If Cedric knew the significance of it, then he didn't show it and simply nodded. They separated on the fourth floor, with Quinn climbing up to the fifth floor.
'I need to keep an eye on him,' thought Quinn. The events had changed, and Quinn was sure that what happened in the books wouldn't happen. But... 'There's no harm in keeping an eye out for all of them,' thought Quinn; he was going to be very observant this year.
He needed to be.
There was only one week until all parties arrived at Hogwarts.
The clock was ticking.
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Quinn West - MC - Romance language enthusiast.
Alastor Moody - Barty Crouch Jr. - Has his own plans.
Minerva McGonagall - Deputy Headmaster - The busiest she had been in Decades.
Cedric Diggory - Hufflepuff - Champion candidate, prefect.
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