Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gundam Wing Goes to Hogwarts ❯ More Trouble ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter 9: More Trouble

“Where are we going today?” Trowa asked Hagrid eagerly as they left the big man's hut and headed for the Forbidden Forest.

“Well, now,” Hagrid said, and he put a big finger by the side of his nose, “it's a surprise, yeh might say.”

“Oh?” Trowa brightened.

“Yeh'll like this,” Hagrid assured him with a rumbling chuckle.

The two men hiked deep into the woods, to where the tree branches tangled together overhead and produced a chilly, dripping twilight at the forest floor. All around them, animals large and small could be heard, and sometimes seen, some watching boldly, others timidly, as the big man and the smaller man strode by.

Trowa tipped his head to the side and listened. “Everything knows you.”

“Wha's that?” Hagrid asked.

“The creatures,” Trowa said. “Everything knows you. They're all talking about you.”

Hagrid blinked and his cheeks reddened above his thick beard. “Yeh don' say? Well, I do like to help out here an' there when I'm walkin' about.”

“It's appreciated.”

Hagrid grinned broadly and his eyes brightened. They walked a little farther and then he stopped, holding up one enormous hand. “This is it,” he said in a low voice. “We'll wait here.”

Trowa stopped and looked around expectantly. There were dozens of creatures still watching them, chattering away. Then the footfalls of a heavy creature could be heard approaching them. “Oh!” Trowa exclaimed. Stepping through the trees came a centaur, his long blond hair and golden hide gleaming in the gloom under the trees.

Hagrid beamed proudly. “This here is Firenze,” he said as the centaur reached them. He leaned toward Trowa. “He's one of the more talkative one's, mind. Centaurs are a closed-mouth bunch, most o' the time.”

Firenze inclined his head politely to Trowa. “Humans chatter endlessly about nothing,” he said with a slight smile, “just like birds. We centaurs prefer to speak when there is something profound to discuss.”

“Do you understand the birds?” Trowa asked.

“I don't, but there are those among our kind who claim they do.”

Hagrid dropped a huge hand onto Trowa's shoulder. “This gentleman here, Trowa Barton by name, can speak to animals! Ain't that somethin'?”

Firenze regarded Trowa curiously. “Is that so? You can communicate with all creatures?”

“That's right,” Trowa nodded. “And I'd have to agree with you about the birds. They do chatter a lot. Mostly about their mates, their nests, their eggs and where the best food can be found. They also seem to spend an awful lot of time singing about the weather. I hadn't realized how many different kinds of wind there are until I started listening to birds.”

Firenze nodded gravely. “I imagine that would be so. Creatures of flight must be highly attuned to nuances of the air. We centaurs are more attuned to the turning of the world. Are you a student of Astrology, Trowa Barton?”

“Uh, no.”

“Few humans are. One wonders how they survive just letting fate happen to them without any preparation.”

“But if it's fate,” Trowa said thoughtfully, “doesn't that mean you can't do anything about it?”

“Yes and no.” Firenze frowned slightly. “Some fates are unavoidable, but others can be averted.”

“But if you can avert it, is it fate?”

Firenze pawed at the ground. “I will try to explain. The future can be seen in the heavens, but sometimes multiple paths are indicated. In this case, certain actions may bring about certain fates.”

“It sounds more like possibility than fate.”

Firenze frowned. “That's one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“I would also think,” Trowa continued, “that if I based my actions on forcing a particular fate to come about, that it could have severe impacts later. Suppose I wanted to avoid having an accident, so I chose not to go out that day, but because I didn't go out, I was not there to prevent someone else from being killed. And what if that person was someone who was supposed to discover the cure for a terrible disease? Now the whole world will continue to suffer from the disease because I didn't want to spend a few days in the hospital.”

“Um,” said Firenze.

“This is a well-spoken human,” another deep voice said.

A second centaur, this one all-black, stepped into view.

“How do yeh do, Bane?” Hagrid said.

Bane dipped his head politely to Hagrid. “For once, I will recommend you listen to a human, Firenze,” Bane said. “Have I not said countless times that attempting to change fate is pointless?”

“But the scenario he describes is purely speculative!” Firenze replied hotly.

“No, it is exactly what I have been saying all along!” Bane retorted. “Fate is fate! It cannot be changed, only altered into something far worse.”

“But if fate can be altered at all,” Trowa said innocently, “is it not equally likely that it could be changed into something better?”

“Exactly my point!” Firenze exclaimed.

“But then any outcome at all is likely and fate would not exist!” Bane shouted. “But centuries of reading the heavens have shown that fate does exist and the future can be predicted!”

“It is true that the stars and planets foretell significant events,” Firenze responded, “but the actions of individuals have changed the foreseen path. We have all seen this!”

“But I suppose there have been certain events that occurred no matter what anyone did,” Trowa put in.

“And that is fate!” Bane stated firmly, folding his muscular arms across his chest.

“But fate is not inevitable!” Firenze shot back, also folding his arms and glaring at Bane.

Hagrid cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should be gettin' along. Lot's to do an' all.”

But the two centaurs did not hear him. Standing nose to nose, they continued to argue about the inevitability of fate.

“Do they always argue like this?” Trowa asked, straight-faced.

“Well, not so's I've seen,” Hagrid said, scratching his head, “but they're mostly private folks, centaurs.”

“Well, I suppose it's better it was me and not Wu-Fei you introduced them to. Wu-Fei would have had them questioning the value of knowing the future at all.”

Back at Hogwarts, Wu-Fei sneezed. Smoke curled out of his mouth, but no flame.

“Allergies?” Quatre asked. Wu-Fei was helping Quatre install a wooden bucket on the wall next to the door of his classroom.

“No. I think someone's talking about me. Anyway, why am I helping you do this? Where's Trowa?”

“Trowa,” Quatre said with an annoyed sniff, “went kiting off right after breakfast to go somewhere with Hagrid.”

“Oh.”

“It seems like he spends all his time with that giant,” Quatre grumbled. “I hardly see him at all except at meals, and sometimes not even then. He even went out with Hagrid last night! Something about looking for moon-wraiths. Honestly!”

Wu-Fei blinked several times but wisely said nothing.

“There,” Quatre finally said, “that will have to do. Thank you, Wu-Fei.”

“You're welcome. Have a good class.” Wu-Fei quickly left before he got roped into doing anything else.

When Quatre's students began arriving, they found Quatre waiting right inside the door. “Please deposit your wands in the bucket,” he said, pointing at the new installation.

“What?” Percy, the first student to enter the door, stared at the bucket in consternation.

“You heard me,” Quatre said. “Put your wands in the bucket. I've decided the only way I can keep you from sticking your hands in your pockets and fondling the damn things is to remove them from your persons. So into the bucket with them and then take your seats.”

Expressions ranging from dismay to utter horror passed over the students' faces as one by one they deposited their wands into the bucket. A few, like Percy, had to have their wands pried from their reluctant fingers by Quatre.

When the last nervous, unhappy student was seated, Quatre favored them all with a brilliant smile. “Excellent! Now we can begin some truly wandless magic. Who wants to try a luminosity spell?”

Hermione immediately stuck her hand in the air.

“Very good, Miss Granger. Fix your mind on the kind of light you want to make and focus your thoughts using this phrase: Novi inlustris apparere.”

Hermione stood up and held out her right hand. Her brow wrinkled as she concentrated. “Novi inlustris apparere!” she stated in a loud, clear voice. A brief golden light flickered on her palm and vanished.

“Well done, Miss Granger!” Quatre congratulated her. “Very well done for a first try.” Hermione sat down with a huge grin on her face. “Who's next?”

Percy surged to his feet with a determined look on his face. He stuck out his hand and immediately shouted: “Novi inlustris apparere!” Nothing happened. The students around him tittered. Looking angry and embarrassed, he tried again. Still nothing.

“You're pushing too hard, Percy,” Quatre said. “You can't force the light to appear; you have to will it to appear.”

“But that's the same thing!” Percy exclaimed.

“No, it's not.”

“But what do you mean by that, Professor?” said an earnest-looking sixth year Ravenclaw girl.

“Well,” Quatre said thoughtfully. “Suppose a boy wanted to kiss you and he mashed his lips on yours very hard. Would you like that?”

The girl's cheeks colored and she quickly shook her head.

“Suppose instead he cupped your face in his hands, looked into your eyes, drew your mouth to his and gently kissed your lips?”

The girl got a dreamy look on her face. “That sounds much better,” she said with a sigh.

“That is the difference,” Quatre concluded. “The magic must flow naturally through your body. If you're all tensed up, it can't get through. You have to relax and want it to happen. You might be able to force magic out of your wand with effort alone, but when you have only your body as the conduit, you have to be open and let the magic flow.”

Hermione raised her hand. “But in that case, Professor Winner, wouldn't magic with a wand be that much more powerful if you draw the magic through your body first?”

“Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points for Gryffindor. You have stated the exact value of practicing wandless magic. It will make you a confident sorcerer with and without a wand, but you will end up even more powerful with a wand.”

At that every student in the class straightened up.

The Ravenclaw girl stuck her hand in the air. “May I try next, Professor Winner?”

“Go ahead.”

The girl stood up and held out her hand. She drew a breath, focused her eyes on her palm and said: “Novi inlustris apparere.” A flicker of pink light flashed above her palm. “Oh! I did it!”

“Very good!” Quatre beamed at her. “Come now, gentlemen! It's two to nothing in favor of the girls. Are you going to let that stand?”

“No!” cried a number of masculine voices and more hands shot into the air.

At the end of class, everyone was chattering excitedly.

“I could just feel the power, you know?” one Hufflepuff boy exclaimed excitedly.

“I know!” responded a Slytherin girl, forgetting for the moment that Hufflepuff boys were totally beneath her. “I could feel it, too! It was just amazing!”

Already standing by the bucket, Percy shuffled through the collected wands with an irritated look on his face. “This is ridiculous! We'll be late for our next class if we have to paw through here every week looking for our wands!”

“Hurry up, Percy!” someone exclaimed. “Can't you tell your own wand from everyone else's?”

Before Percy could respond, Quatre waved a hand. “Stand back, please,” he said calmly. “Thrysi apud eri.” Instantly, the wands leaped out of the bucket and zoomed to the waiting hands of their owners. “Off you go, then.”

“How did you do that?!” Percy demanded. “Summoning a wand to you is one thing, but…”

Quatre sighed. “Percy, you really need to think more expansively. Your wands know who they belong to. I just told them to go to their owners. It's that simple.”

Percy stared with his mouth open.

“You're going to be late to your next class.”

Percy snapped his mouth closed and hurried out.

Hermione lingered after class. “Professor Winner, where did you learn magic? The things you can do are… just amazing!”

“Merlin was a good teacher,” Quatre said absently.

“Merlin?! THE Merlin?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Oh! Ah…” Quatre bit his lip. “What I meant was…”

“How could you have possibly studied under Merlin?!” Hermione demanded. “If he even existed, it would have been hundreds of years ago!”

“Well, you see, I had this opportunity…” Quatre fumbled, but then he caught Hermione by the shoulder and hustled her to the door. “But we can talk about it some other time. You'll be late for your next class.”

“But Professor Winner…!”

“Later!” Quatre rather unceremoniously shoved the young witch out the door and slammed it closed. “Damn it! I'm getting as bad as Roku!”

At dinner later, a determined-looking Hermione plopped down next to Roku, shoving Harry over so she could squeeze in. “All right!” she declared without preamble. “I want to know who taught Professor Winner magic.”

“Mr. Merlin.”

“You mean Merlin the Wizard who served King Arthur?”

Yes, that one.” Food appeared and Roku immediately helped himself to half-a-dozen chicken legs, an enormous helping of shepherd's pie, a couple of rolls and some grilled tomatoes.

“And just when did he meet Merlin?”

“When they were in Camelot.”

“Your family went to Camelot?”

“Just for a year or so.” Roku shoveled a heaping spoonful of shepherd's pie into his mouth. “I like this food. It comes already mixed together.”

“Wait a minute.” Hermione held up a hand. “When were they in Camelot?”

“In the past. That's when Camelot is.” Roku stripped all the meat off a chicken leg in a single bite, making a small snarling noise.

“Don't eat like a tiger,” Hermione said with a small frown. “And I don't understand. How could they go to Camelot in the past?”

“Time travel. Don't you wizards and witches do that?”

Hermione paled and she quickly looked around. “Time travel is impossible.”

“No, it isn't. You just have to know how.”

“But… but… what about paradoxes?” Hermione swallowed. “Don't you worry about running into yourselves?”

“Should that be paradox-i?” Harry asked Ron around a mouthful of chicken.

“No, I think it's ok like that.”

“Would you two stop interrupting?” Hermione exclaimed. “Are you even listening? He said his parents time-traveled to Camelot!”

“I was born there,” Roku chimed in.

“What?!”

“That's where Mama was when he turned into a woman and got pregnant with me. He was just learning self-transformation and messed up the spell. Switching sexes is a different spell, so he wasn't sure how to turn back, which is why he was a woman for long enough to get knocked up by my fathers.” Roku giggled. “It's kind of fun being a girl,” he said to Harry. “You should try it.”

“That's ok!” Harry said quickly.

Hermione made a strangling sound. “Are you saying you were a girl once?”

“Just for a few hours. My aunts wanted to play with my hair and they thought it would be better if I was a girl, so I switched.”

“I bet you were pretty,” Harry said without thinking and then blushed furiously.

But fortunately for him, Ron was not listening. He was staring at Roku in horror. “But if you were a girl, what happened to your…?” He trailed off into a strangled silence while Hermione turned bright red.

“I didn't have one, of course,” Roku said matter-of-factly. “Girls don't have…”

“Can we get back to the original topic of discussion?” Hermione interrupted loudly, her cheeks flaming. “How can you travel so far back in time?”

Roku shrugged. “We've been farther back than that. Oh, goody! More shepherd's pie!” He scooped several more mounds onto his plate.

“Maybe you should just drop it, Hermione,” Harry advised. “Roku's family isn't like any other wizarding family anyone's ever met.”

“So it would seem,” Hermione agreed faintly. She half-heartedly began to eat. But then her expression brightened. “But just imagine it! Traveling into the distant past. We could go back and meet famous wizards and witches. Imagine it!”

“I am,” Ron said dourly. “I bet we'd mess something up and cause ourselves to never be born.”

“Papa Duo fathered some children in the past,” Roku volunteered, “and Papa Wu-Fei speculated that he might have become his own ancestor.”

Ron groaned. “Can we stop talking about this? I'm getting a headache.”

“But it's fascinating!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Only to over-educated people like you!” Ron exclaimed. He shoved his plate away. “I think I'm finished.”

“Wait a second, Ron!” Harry said. “Are you coming to fencing club tomorrow?”

“I guess. But I'm going to go check on Scabbers now.” Ron sighed. “He looked like he'd lost even more hair this morning.” He shuffled off with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped.

“Why doesn't he just accept that his rat is dying?” Hermione grumbled to herself.

“It might not be so bad if you could get Crookshanks to quit chasing him,” said Harry.

“He's a cat!”

“I'm just saying…”

“Hmph!” Hermione snorted. She leaned over her plate and became very focused on eating.

“Are you staying after fencing club tomorrow, Harry?” Roku asked. “Uncle Zechs said he was going to give you private lessons.”

Harry brightened. “That's right! Of course I'll stay. I'm really looking forward to it.”

Unable to control her curiosity, Hermione looked up. “Why is he doing that?”

“I think it's just to cheer me up, but I wouldn't mind learning how to fence. And Count Merquise and Mr. Kushranada are so sophisticated and have so much class. I would love to be able to act like that.”

“Uncle Treize would say it's not an act but just the natural behavior of a true gentleman.”

“Even better!” Harry grinned wickedly. “Malfoy fancies himself such a gentleman! I would love to be able to put him in his place.”

Talking about the extra lessons improved Harry's mood so much that the next day breezed by and before he knew it, it was time for the fencing club meeting. Alexa was not there but Jett was, sitting on a bench kicking her little feet while the students practiced lunges and parries.

“Ow!” Neville cried out and he dropped his wooden practice sword with a clatter. He clutched his bruised knuckles and stared apprehensively at Zechs' critical expression. “I'm sorry, Count Merquise! I didn't mean to drop it!”

Zechs stepped over and examined Neville's hand. “It doesn't look broken.” He picked up Neville's sword and held it out. “What do you think you did wrong?”

“He picked up the sword in the first place!” Draco called out with a laugh. Several other students laughed, too.

Neville flushed with embarrassment.

“I don't recall including you in the conversation, Mr. Malfoy,” Zechs said sternly. “Please concentrate on your own meager efforts.” Draco scowled as several Gryffindor's, Harry among them, snickered. “Now, Mr. Longbottom, why did your hand get hit?”

“Because… I didn't parry properly?” Neville ventured.

“That's right. You lowered your hand when you deflected instead of raising it, which allowed Miss Mallory's sword to slide down your blade and hit your hand. It's painful with a practice sword. It would be disabling with a real blade if your hand was bare. Please try it again.”

“Yes, sir.” Neville took his stance and he and his opponent resumed practicing.

When class was over, Harry stayed where he was as the other students filed out. He did not notice Draco stop at the door and turn to stare at him, with his ever-present shadows Crabbe and Goyle behind him. Roku sat on the bench next to Treize and Jett.

“Now, Harry,” Zechs said, “step over here and have a look at these other swords. We've been having you train with rapiers, but there is incredible variety in cutting weapons; even just in swords alone. Each weapon lends itself to a different style of fighting. This broadsword, for example,” he took a long, broad-bladed wooden sword from the rack, “is designed to crush as well as cut. It's good for fighting someone wearing armor.” He handed Harry the sword.

Harry tried to take it in one hand and it immediately sagged to the floor. “Wow! That's heavy! Do people really fight with these?”

“Not so much these days, but it was quite popular in the past.”

Jett appeared at Harry's elbow. “That's like Papa Heero's sword,” she said gravely.

“It's a little big for you, Jett,” Zechs said affectionately. “Here, try this one.” He handed Jett a slightly smaller broadsword like a knight might use from horseback. She gripped it firmly with both hands, holding the blade up in front of her face. “Well done, Jett! Want to try it, Harry?”

“I guess so.” Harry gripped his sword with both hands and lifted it. Jett turned to face him and immediately swung her sword. It smacked against his blade and he staggered to the side. There was an explosion of laughter from the doorway.

“You're useless, Potter!” Draco sang out. “Can't even stand up to a little girl like that?” He advanced into the room with his hands on his hips. Crabbe and Goyle moved up on either side with goofy-looking grins on their plump faces.

Zechs frowned. “I had intended this session to be just for Mr. Potter,” he said. “But since you're here, why don't the three of you have a go?”

“What? You want us to fight Potter?”

“No, I want you to fight Jett.” Zechs smiled sweetly. “I believe we have more broadswords, don't we Roku?”

“Yes.” Roku produced two more swords as Harry handed his to Draco with a smile.

“Try not to get hurt this time, Malfoy,” Harry said. Draco scowled at him.

The three Slytherins faced Jett and lifted their swords. Draco struggled a little raising his. Jett did not waste time. She jumped forward and swung her sword up in a forty-five degree arc, whacking the unprepared Crabbe's sword up and over his shoulder. The boy spun around and stumbled away several steps. Goyle tried to smash his sword down on her head, but Jett skipped to the side and whacked him soundly on the butt with the flat of her blade. He yelped loudly and grabbed his butt, which meant he was only holding his sword with one hand. Jett smacked the sword out of his hand by rapping him sharply on the knuckles. Goyle yelped again and grabbed his smashed fingers. So Jett whacked him on the ass again, this time using the edge, and sent him sprawling.

Draco had managed to stay out of the fight so far by backing up several paces, but now Jett advanced on him. “Crabbe!” Draco shouted in panic.

Crabbe scurried forward with his sword raised. He swung down as he neared, but only managed to hit Draco's sword, knocking it out of his hands. Crabbe lost his balance and Jett used the opportunity to jam her sword between his knees and trip him. Crabbe went down hard with a grunt. Without missing a beat, Jett took a running step, leaped onto Crabbe's back to get more altitude and jumped into the air, swinging her sword down toward Draco's defenseless head with a wall-shaking cry.

Zechs caught her in mid-leap, one arm around her waist and the other catching her sword before it could land. “Now, Jett, I did not give you permission to brain him.”

“Aw, man!” Jett complained. “I was winning!”

“Winning does not always mean reducing your opponent to a pulp.”

“But Papa Heero says…”

“I know what Papa Heero says,” Zechs chuckled, “but this is training, not combat.”

“Ok,” Jett said reluctantly.

Zechs put Jett down and pulled Crabbe, who was gasping for breath, to his feet. “You just have the wind knocked out of you,” he said cheerfully.

Treize, meanwhile, was helping a teary-eyed Goyle to his feet. “I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will have something for that bruise,” he said sympathetically.

Goyle clutched at his backside and took a hesitant, limping step. “Ow!”

“Um, Roku, can you do something?” Treize suggested.

“Sure.” Roku trotted over and poked Goyle's butt. “Bene Corpus.”

Goyle blinked in surprise. “It doesn't hurt!” He stared owlishly at Roku, his expression bordering on reverent. “Thank you!”

“You're welcome.”

“Now,” Zechs said. “If you don't mind, you're cutting into my personal time. Get out.”

Scowling furiously, Draco helped the still wheezing Crabbe toward the door. “Get over here, you idiot!” he shouted at Goyle. Goyle hurried over and put a shoulder under Crabbe's other arm.

Zechs turned to Harry. “Well, that was interesting. And educational. You got to witness firsthand how the broadsword is used effectively in a fight. Did you see the differences from the instruction you've had so far?”

“Yes!” Harry nodded vigorously. “I want to try it!”

“Very good.” Zechs grinned. He picked up two swords and tossed one to Harry, who caught it a little awkwardly. “Let's get started.”