Chapter Text
“Men make history, but history is not made of men.”
THE HISTORY OF MAGIC CLASSROOM exhaled its customary odor of dust, damp chalk, and aged paper—the same scent that, when merged with the monotonous fallacy of the old professor, lulled the disinterested minds of students into procrastinating daydreams and sleep until the end of the lesson.
At first glance, nothing had changed. However, a more diligent look was enough to notice the differences.
The books, once dusty in scattered piles, were now organized on the shelves.
The blackboard, bearing the inscriptions of the three recurring themes—"First Goblin Rebellion, International Statute of Secrecy, and Second Goblin Rebellion," which Theodore suspected had been written there since the time the old ghost professor was still alive—had been erased.
He wondered where Binns was now; could ghosts be fired? Theodore hadn't heard anything about his new position, nor had he even seen him…
Leaning subtly back in his chair, Theodore first observed the landscape outside the window—something previously impossible since the curtains were always kept drawn—and then the anxious faces of his classmates, awaiting the start of the lesson. He himself was a little intrigued.
This would be no ordinary history class.
Without surprise, almost like a reflex, his gaze turned to Angelica Adler, who was once again sharing a seat with Longbottom.
Her face was illuminated by the afternoon sunlight streaming through the cracked stained-glass windows, revealing the small freckles on her skin and dust particles suspended in the air.
The curly locks of her purple hair swayed as she exchanged conspiratorial smiles with Longbottom, and sometimes, at intervals almost imperceptible to an ordinary observer, she subtly flexed her fists and tensed her body—as if anxious or experiencing spasms of pain—before relaxing in a way that no one else would have noticed.
But Theodore, of course, noticed.
He hadn't seen her after Potions class—where she had excelled, demonstrating an impressive degree of competence. Her performance in class made his curiosity swell with a strange, misplaced pride that he didn't understand why he was feeling for a stranger.
However, the sight of Adler and Longbottom talking like lifelong friends, indifferent to the hostile stares of the rest of the class—and the knowledge that they had probably spent lunch together, who knows where—made something dark, sticky, and thorn-filled twist inside him.
It was new, uncomfortable. Something Theodore still didn't know how to name, but he definitely didn't like it.
The sudden silence in the room pulled him from his thoughts as it announced the imposing entrance of Albus Dumbledore, who walked calmly, exempt from the cautious and scrutinizing gazes of nearly everyone there.
To Theodore, it was hard to decide what was stranger: seeing the former Headmaster, the symbol of light and resistance, standing there—dressed in yet another one of his eccentric robes—occupying the position of a mere History professor, or the fact that he seemed perfectly at ease with it.
As if teaching at the Dark Lord’s current school had been his plan all along.
Dumbledore stopped before the class, posing like some remaining saintly figure.
His blue eyes, clear as polished glass, swept the room amidst a heavy silence, broken only by the hollow sound of the wind hitting the windows outside.
"Good afternoon, young ones," he finally greeted minutes after the silence had become unsettling. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts."
He paused.
"As you may know, I will be your History professor for the remainder of your academic term. And I must say… it is quite a refreshing experience," he concluded with good humor.
Theodore raised an eyebrow; "refreshing" was a generous euphemism to describe the entire situation.
But to Theodore, everything about that man always reminded him exactly of that: euphemisms and theater.
He looked away from the old man’s twinkling eyes and observed the other students. Many sat rigid in their seats, some frowning as if trying to understand what was happening. Well, good luck with that.
Like many, he didn't buy the Dark Lord’s discourse of forgiveness and progress.
The man did not forgive, and he definitely did not give new opportunities. At least not like this, without first providing some kind of punishment that would make a person think three times before considering anything contrary to his will. One only had to look at his father…
Ronald Weasley, sitting in the other row with his desk paired across from his own, wouldn't stop muttering his internal doubts to himself, in a voice far too loud to be discreet.
"I don't believe this! It's ridiculous, he shouldn't be here!" Weasley whispered. "But maybe it's just a plan…"
Theodore watched with disdain.
People thought of Dumbledore as a mystical savior figure—the incarnation of Merlin, they said. So they didn't think of the man as a traitor, but rather that everything was part of a "grand plan."
Theodore didn't believe in Dumbledore's surrender, of course, nor in the Dark Lord's fallacies. And above all, he didn't believe in martyrs or dreams.
He turned his gaze back to the man who, until a few weeks ago, was known as the greatest wizard since Merlin, thinking that perhaps it wasn't a matter of understanding the Dark Lord’s plans for keeping Dumbledore here, but Dumbledore’s own plans for allowing himself to stay.
"History," Dumbledore began, clearing his throat, "is not merely an echo of the past; it is a reflection of human choices. And, like all choices, it carries consequences."
He paused, looking at the whole class over his half-moon spectacles.
"For today's lesson, we will begin by discussing a different theme." He waved his wand, and the phrase “Muggle tragedies and their impact on the wizarding world” was written on the board.
Theodore furrowed his brows as his classmates created the expected buzz.
"Muggle tragedies?" Blaise Zabini crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I thought this was History of Magic, not Muggle history."
Parkinson huffed.
"Well, maybe he's finally going senile," she commented, not bothering to lower her voice.
"Isn't he already?" Agnes Monkleigh added mockingly, drawing laughter from the Slytherin row and angry glares from the Gryffindors.
However, Dumbledore, though he had likely heard everything, remained unperturbed.
"Your confusion is understandable," he spoke as if the comments and taunts were simple classroom inquiries. "However, a large part of our history was built in intersection with the history of our counterparts. Whether we like it or not."
Dumbledore swept his gaze across the room, settling briefly on the other students in green.
"In today's lesson, you will understand this better," he announced. "Let’s start by citing some Muggle disasters or historical events, and then we will discuss the impacts they had on our world. Who can begin?"
The room was in a limbo of silent morbidity.
The Slytherins looked at the professor with resignation and defiance, keeping their mouths shut out of pure spite.
Meanwhile, most of the Gryffindors seemed to have no idea about anything. Theodore suspected that most of them didn't even know the disasters of the wizarding world itself.
The silence, however, did not last long, as without any surprise, Granger raised her hand.
Dumbledore smiled at her like a proud grandfather and gave her the floor.
"Well, sir…" She tucked a stray lock of her messy hair behind her ear. "We could cite the World Wars, the Black Death, the Salem trials, the Spanish flu, and others as major tragedies for Muggles."
"Excellent examples, Miss Granger." Dumbledore nodded in approval. "Ten points to Gryffindor."
Granger gave a timid but quite proud smile and looked to the side—at Angelica Adler specifically — as if she expected the other girl to be impressed or perhaps feel threatened.
Theodore noticed that Granger had taken Slughorn's previous words very seriously and had established that Adler was some sort of rival.
It was ridiculous, but amusing to watch because Adler had a very bored expression and was making small talk with Longbottom, appearing totally disinterested in the class since Dumbledore entered. The total opposite of her attentive posture in Potions.
He found it strange; one would expect a very different attitude from her, especially as a Muggle-born. They idolized Dumbledore—look at Granger, for example, her gaze bordered on desperation for approval and fascination…
"Very well," Dumbledore continued. "Could someone cite one or several possible impacts resulting from these events?"
Again, no one stepped forward to speak, and Granger raised her hand once more.
"Sir…" this time she sounded more confident, "the World Wars, for example, affected wizarding trade and the transport of essential materials, such as potion ingredients, fabrics, and food. Furthermore, the Black Death caused many wizards to isolate themselves from Muggles, eventually being one of the causes for the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy, just like the Salem trials."
"Excellent observations, Miss Granger, five more points."
"At this rate, she'll earn back the points she lost in Potions in no time," Zabini commented, and Malfoy snorted.
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore called. "Would you like to contribute?"
Malfoy grumbled quietly to Zabini and shot a bored look at the professor.
"I don't think I have much to contribute." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I don't understand why we are talking about Muggles and their problems. Isn't it already clear they are weak, useless, and disturb our society?"
Some Slytherins nodded in approval.
"You're the one who disturbs our society…" Dean Thomas from Gryffindor commented through gritted teeth.
Malfoy looked at him, tilted his head slightly, and let a slow, cold, ironic smile spread across his angular face.
"Ah, Thomas, I forgot your mother is a Muggle. Don't feel offended; you're just as useless as she is."
"FUCK OFF MALFOY! WHO DO YOU THINK Y"
"Right, right, pay attention here." Dumbledore intervened in what would have been a tedious argument. "Let us avoid the use of such derogatory vocabulary, Mr. Thomas. And Mr. Malfoy, this is neither the place nor the objective of the lesson." Dumbledore looked emphatically at the blonde before continuing. "Muggles have their differences, without a doubt. However, Mr. Malfoy… they do not cease to be necessary for even our survival, as incredible as it may seem."
Malfoy scoffed.
"Are you suggesting that we need Muggles?"
"It was not a suggestion," the professor replied with a cordial smile that bordered on condescension.
Then he looked at the whole class and narrowed his eyes.
"The young lady there, sitting next to Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore said, looking at Adler with a strange glint, "would you be so kind as to enlighten Mr. Malfoy?"
Angelica clenched her fists.
Theodore watched her body go tense before she took a deep breath, relaxed her muscles, and looked at the Headmaster with a face clear of any expression. A perfect pure-blood mask that Theodore had never seen any normal Muggle-born manage to pull off.
"I don't understand the question, sir," she said monotonically.
"Mr. Malfoy thinks we don't need Muggles. I sense that you disagreed with him, given your conversation with Mr. Longbottom. I believe you were discussing the lesson."
Longbottom turned red as if he had been caught with his pants down, but Adler remained indifferent to the former Headmaster's jab.
She took her time to respond, analyzing Dumbledore with a scrutiny that would have been very disrespectful if the man wasn't doing the same, as if he were trying to remember where he had seen her face before.
Strange. They did this for long minutes until Adler smiled subtly and began to speak.
"In fact, I do not share Malfoy’s opinions," she said with a drawl, and Theodore heard a "of course not" whispered with disdain among the Slytherins.
"Many people still have the mentality that they are self-sufficient and do not depend on Muggles for anything, when materials like fabric, iron, and plastics are mostly produced by them. Not to mention food."
Adler answered, but instead of Malfoy, it was Parkinson who intruded, letting out a mocking laugh.
"What are you talking about? Did you forget we can produce all that with just a wave of a wand? Typical of people like you..." she mocked.
Angelica gave a sarcastic smile.
"And it’s so typical of 'you' not to know even the basics of the rules of magic," she murmured. "Teresa Ramblin's First Volume of Magic for Beginners, page 5, paragraph 7, exceptions to Gamp’s Law. You can't make food appear out of thin air, nor transfigure something to eat."
In the face of Parkinson's annoyed expression, Adler's satisfied smile grew.
"And speaking of other transfigured things," Adler continued, "everyone knows that transfiguration isn't eternal, and you have to be very good at it, but it will never be something real. Have you ever heard of a wizarding raw material factory? Or are you assuming the materials used to make your tasteless robes fall from the sky?"
Parkinson's face turned red, and even her so-called friends laughed at her.
"Exactly that!" Dumbledore said excitedly, interrupting whatever Parkinson was going to retort. "Wizards are not active agricultural producers or industries. Miss Adler raised an important point that was also called into question during the First and Second World Wars. There were food shortages for Muggles and, consequently, for us as well. Thus, we can see how an event of theirs ended up affecting us. Very well, 5 points to Slytherin."
"Ten," Adler said. "I think I deserve at least ten points for my contribution, sir," she clarified given the Headmaster's obvious confusion.
"Who does she think she is?!" Parkinson said.
Both Slytherins and Gryffindors shot confused and strange looks at her, but the girl remained impassive, looking at the former Headmaster who seemed as intrigued as he was amused.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Ten points then, for the clarification to the class and especially to Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy huffed.
"I didn't say I agreed with her. Regardless of everything you said," he looked at Adler, "Muggles are still Muggles. A bunch of useless troublemakers."
He smiled with cold arrogance and veiled disdain, then continued.
"And since we are talking about the consequences of their actions, let's not focus only on the needs caused by them. After all, thanks to that same World War that leveled entire cities, several magical communities across the continent were decimated, wizards were blamed for the Black Death, and several other things —and you continue to defend them, wanting to emphasize the necessity of it?"
Adler huffed.
"And did wizards not benefit from these situations?" She crossed her arms and looked down her nose at him. "Many took advantage of the wars to commit deliberate murder and other atrocities against Muggles that I don't even dare mention. The Black Death and Salem, which are used so often as a hook for the Statute of Secrecy, opened up economic space for pure-blood families to expand businesses and strengthen magical laws for their own benefit—not to mention how Grindelwald used the World War to rise to power, offering wizards what Hitler offered Muggles."
She narrowed her eyes.
"They had different origins, but both were equally crazy and narcissistic tyrants."
Zabini made a whip-like sound with his tongue, smiling with pleasure.
"Man, she destroyed you."
Malfoy twisted his lips reluctantly but crossed his arms, not admitting defeat.
"Regardless, it is natural for the strong to seek advantages in critical situations. You are distorting the facts."
"Distorting the facts?" she smiled incredulously. "In what way?"
"Muggles are nothing but pests. If we depended on them, we would have been eradicated, but we survived and are superior beings by nature. The only thing we need is for them to stay far away and know their place."
"Superior? Ha!" Adler mocked. "Waving a stick around doesn't make anyone superior."
Some classmate made a choking sound while Malfoy’s face contorted; even Dumbledore, who followed everything as if watching a wizarding tennis match —just like the rest of the students — coughed briefly.
Theodore, however, was loving it. He himself didn't have many opinions on Muggles. He preferred they stayed on their side of the coin and had no other personal opinion, but he recognized their importance and even their inventions and innovations, which, honestly, for those who didn't have the benefits of magic… in many aspects turned out better than theirs.
Adler, however, had many opinions…
"Wizards glorify themselves because of magic but do nothing with it." Angelica smiled with scorn. "They remain comfortable in their generational homes, in their pathetic laws, unlike the Muggles, who are dominating the world. On the day the magical community realizes this, it will be too late."
Malfoy crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her.
"What do you mean by that?"
"That maybe the next great disaster…" Adler gave a predatory smile, "will be something like… the breaking of the Statute… then we’ll see who is superior to whom when they launch missiles and bombs at your luxury manors."
The room fell silent, everyone looking at Adler with different expressions.
She was right. Theodore knew she was; from the little he knew of Muggles, they won not only in numbers but in weaponry as well, and as they were now, the magical community wouldn't stand a chance in a real war with them.
But was it wise for Adler to expose her advocacy for them like that? Theodore didn't think so.
"I believe we’ve had enough for today," Dumbledore said just as the bell echoed through the room.
As if coming out of a trance, Angelica blinked her eyes as her classmates began to pack their things and get up to leave.
"For the next class, I want an individual essay on today's topic; it will be worth individual points as well."
A collective groan was heard.
"You must choose a historical tragedy, wizarding or Muggle, and analyze how it shaped relations and influenced the wizarding world."
Dumbledore gave a conspiratorial smile.
"I don't want correct answers taken from books; I would appreciate more… of your intellectual honesty."
The students began leaving the classroom, but not before casting one last significant look at Adler.
Theodore suspected that today's debate would run wild and distorted until dinner, like some sort of event, and wouldn't bring good repercussions. Angelica must have noticed this, given her expression of contained frustration.
He just continued packing his things as well. In the end, it was none of his business…
Theodore was about to get up to head to his next class when a shadow manifested in front of him. Angelica Adler.
"Hello, Nott…" she said.
Theodore nodded in acknowledgment. Externally, he displayed his classic state of deliberate expressionlessness, but inside, a feeling similar to latent anxiety and casual curiosity doubled in size.
"Can I see your schedule?"
The question caught him by surprise. What was she planning?
The classroom was practically empty; only they and Dumbledore remained. The latter, besides paying too much attention to their conversation, might have been wondering whether or not they intended to leave.
Theodore caught himself rummaging through his materials and handing her the sheet before he could think straight.
The girl analyzed the schedule, furrowed her dark brows, but relaxed her posture and then returned the paper. She brushed her hair from her face, tucked a loose curly lock behind her ear adorned with several earrings, and looked at him.
" Your schedule is similar to mine," she said. "We have the same electives and we are in the same house. I have a request."
Theodore raised an eyebrow.
"If it's not a bother, can we start going to classes together? I don't know the castle, obviously, and because of the year difference, I can't follow the first-year prefect guides." She let out a short laugh. "I won't bother you, and it will only be for the first week. You won't even need to talk to me, and I'll do my best to ensure you don't even notice my presence."
Theodore wanted to let out a sarcastic laugh, as if it were possible for someone not to notice her presence. He stared at her, taking advantage of the proximity to satisfy his apparent and growing need, bordering on obsession.
Angelica's face expressed a mixture of anxiety, resignation, and determination. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but her posture was straight, and she offered him a faint smile, with green eyes that looked more like celestial jewels fixed on his. A dangerous combination.
It was no wonder Longbottom lived with a flush near her, or seemed to dodge her while unconsciously seeking attention when talking to her. Theodore didn't blush, but he didn't feel as indifferent as he should have either.
He gave a side smile, satisfied to see that she was analyzing him with the same blatant scrutiny.
After what seemed like an eternity of exchanging glances, where she was beginning to show boredom, he nodded, agreeing to the request, which in their context was not as simple as it seemed.
After all, Angelica could have requested this favor from a house prefect—as she was expected to do — or from a roommate, but she asked him.
Theodore suffered from no mental illusion that it was for any special reason. He knew she simply had no viable options right now, and that if she could, she clearly would have asked Longbottom, for example.
"Thank you, I'll wait for you in the corridor."
She replied in a tone more sarcastic than grateful and walked to the door. On the way, she exchanged a strange look with Dumbledore, who was watching their interaction without discretion.
The former Headmaster's eyes shone with unusual curiosity and attention; however, Adler looked at him with something akin to deep, stinging resentment.
The kind of look Theodore would cast at the Dark Lord, if he had no sense of self-preservation...
He finally stood up and walked toward the exit. But he couldn't help but savor the confused and shocked look of the old man. Who would have thought Dumbledore could make such an expression?
Theodore smiled discreetly; a greedy glint, like that of a goblin with gold, crossed his gaze when he spotted the small silhouette of Angelica Adler, leaning against the corridor wall.
Fists clenched and gaze distant. He knew, at that instant, whatever secret that unusual-looking girl — at once harmless and voracious — kept, he would make sure to discover it.
Both because his inner self was raising high flags of alert and caution regarding her, and out of pure necessity, which he was now certain was indeed obsession.