The Theory of Magic (Book 1)

26 // Dueling & Danger

"Professor Quirrell?" Professor Dullahan called. Her footsteps echoed as she walked the aisle between the tables. "Professor Quirrell, are you here?"

"Y-yes?" came his familiar stutter from the office door. "H-h-how can I h-h-help you, F-Fi?"

"Spare me a moment of your time, if you could," Professor Dullahan answered, and Harry noticed how her eye ticked when Quirrell spoke. Apparently he wasn't the only one, because Ron started to laugh and Hermione had to smack him in the middle with an elbow to quiet him down.

"J-j-just a m-m-minute!"

Professor Dullahan sniffed. "Merlin, he's laying it on thick...." She turned to face the three Gryffindors standing in her shadow and brought her hands together, slim fingers stark against the dark material of her navy sleeves. "So...how are your other subjects coming along? Are you ready for your Magical Theory exam?"

They nodded.

"Good. I expect all O's."

Hermione beamed, though Harry and Ron shared uneasy glances and Professor Dullahan chuckled.

"Well, at least I hope there's all O's. It's my first year as a teacher, you know. I hope my students learned a suitable amount and all my effort to put some knowledge in between your ears hasn't been in vain."

"What did you do before coming to Hogwarts, Professor Dullahan?"

"Oh, this and that." She shrugged, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. "I've been a potioneer and a scribe most often, and I've done a spot of work as a Rune Mistress and a Curse-Breaker. I've tracked the Nundu in Africa and set up the proper wards around the villages there, and I once helped a magizoologist tag Occamy in the Shanxi province—and let me tell you, that did not go over well, because I accidentally smuggled one back when it shrank to fit inside my pocket and it popped up to say hello right as I was about to cross into the International Floo. The Chinese ICW wizards were furious—but that's neither here nor there. Now, I'm a professor."

Dazed, Harry and his friends looked up at the dark-haired witch, who shrugged again at their silent stares. "Err," Ron managed. "My brother Bill's a Curse-Breaker."

"Is he now? Which branch?"

"The branch in Egypt."

The professor's eyes flickered ever so slightly, though Harry couldn't say why. "Ah. It's dangerous there. I do hope he's keeping himself safe and aware?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

The office door creaked on its hinges as Quirrell stepped out and gave them all a weak, flickering smile. "W-what can I-I assist y-you with?"

"I would appreciate it if I could borrow your lesson plan. For tutoring, of course."

Professor Quirrell flinched, then made his way along the steps. Harry thought the wizard looked quite pale and wondered if Snape had been bullying him again, trying to find his way past the obstacles to the Stone. Harry wished they could tell someone about the Potions Master, someone in the position to do something, but the only adult he thought might believe them was Professor Dullahan, and he wasn't even sure she knew about the Stone. Ron always pointed out that yeah, Professor Dullahan seemed great—but she was as good as a Slytherin, like Snape and Malfoy.

Harry frowned at the thought, uncomfortable. He'd almost been put in Slytherin, after all, though he'd never admit as much to Ron.

From the corner of his eye, he noted how Professor Dullahan stiffened when Professor Quirrell came closer, the other professor stuttering about getting the plan from his desk, to which Dullahan only replied with a grim smile and a nod before returning her attention to Hermione, who asked about some obscure theory on magical fluctuations that had Ron rolling his eyes and Harry taking a breath for patience. He looked out the window toward the darkening sky. It was such a nice evening....