Chapter Text
The summer after Garret’s fourth year
It was the summer after the end of his fourth year, when Garret found himself at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, browsing through aisles, picking up stuff he thought his friends might like. The shop was relatively empty, when the bell chime at the door, alerted him to another visitor. Only when his eyes fell on a familiar silhouette, he realized who it was.
"Evening, Professor Cardan", Garret greeted him. He always insisted on being called Professor Cardan and not Professor Greenbrair, even though it was common knowledge that he was the youngest son of one of the oldest pureblooded families. But considering how much they really sucked, in his opinion, it was fair that he refused to associate with them. He had completed his first teaching year at Hogwarts during Garret's third year. With those sharp, pale cheekbones and those dark twinkling eyes, coupled with his cheerful and funny yammering way of teaching, and teaching well, he was already among the highest favorite professor rankings among the Hogwarts student body.
"Helloo Garret!" A warm smile greeted him back, as the professor started shoving a considerable amount of product in his basket. Seriously, who was the poor soul at the receiving end of all these pranks?
Garret considered asking him, when his eyes fell, fell on it, and he stilled in surprise. There was nothing different about his appearance, he looked the same as he always did, like at Hogwarts-- the semi-formal black robes giving the impression that he was off to a funeral, and those twinkling eyes. But that...that changes everything. Or perhaps, the Professor does seem more chipper that usual. He could have solved the mystery then and there, Professor Cardan would have gladly answered. But then it would have thwarted his future plans.
He future plans for starting yet another phenomenal betting ring among the Hogwarts student body with his best friends Van and Liliver, that is.
***
The new semester, fifth-year classroom. Professor Cardan’s first day of Potions class.
"Now kids! On a final note as I can already see our brightest minds thinking already...the use of the Wit-Sharpening potion is forbidden during any examination, including your O.W.Ls!" Many students audibly groaned and grumbled. What even was the point of the potion, then?
"This reminds me, when I was at Hogwarts, as a student, there was this one boy who planned on making his own Wit-Sharpening Potion before sitting for his O.W.L.s, however he made a grave mistake, with hilarious consequences. Would you guys like to know about it?"
The entire classroom leaned forward, their eyes fixated on the raven haired professor. The doodlers kept their quills away, the secret notes were abandoned and the daydreamers came back to earth at record speed.
They were however deprived of the interesting little tidbit, as just then, the door of the dungeons banged open. Standing, there, was none other than Professor Duarte of DADA, a scowl on her face, her dark blue robes swirling around her and chestnut brown hair in a wild bun. She looked like a storm ready to unleash. Terror struck the hearts of each and every occupant of the room. Except, of course, the person for whom the scowl was meant for.
"Oh Professor Duarte! What a pleasant surprise! I was just telling the children of that one time Valerian had the bright idea--"
"DADA students!" Professor Duarte's loud voice easily cut across Professor Cardan's yammering. "Kindly pack up your belongings and start walking towards the DADA classroom in a single file. And--" Professor Duarte directed her dark scowl and that fearsome gaze toward the other professor, "please feel free to remind your absent-minded Professor here, if he has missed the bell. Which he has, by a full ten minutes."
The students packed and shuffled out at lightning speed. They had heard the bell but no one really wanted him to shut up, really.
"Oh thank you very much, Professor Duarte for coming all the way here! I actually did miss the bell!" Professor Cardan smiled, all bright and chipper.
"Yes thank you, Professor Cardan, for taking away ten minutes of my teaching time!"
Professor Duarte was wrong, however. He did not take away ten minutes of her class time. It was, in fact, seventeen, as she had spent another seven minutes lecturing the one-year-old professor about classroom etiquette, and pulling his head out of his yammering ass so that he can actually hear the bell. (In a professional language, obviously).
***
"Excuse me, Professor Duarte."
Jude was correcting Liliver's stance, they were in the middle of a class duelling session. No one could have noticed the slight twitch in her lips. Liliver did, actually, but she could not imagine such an expression on their stoic professor's face and instead attributed it to imagination or projection, as only the presence of Professor Duarte herself, and no one and nothing else could have prevented the entire class from bursting out laughing.
"May I request a moment of your time away from the class Professor Ju-Duarte? I'm afraid it's a little urgent." Professor Cardan, sporting a neon pink mullet said.
"Well, I'm afraid I'm not the correct person go asking for fashion advice, Professor."
"Well, if it's fashion advice you seek, sir," Van remarked from a corner, "I'd suggest a few piercings and a nose ring to compliment the look-- whatever that is."
"Students please!" Professor Duarte turned towards Van as if to admonish him, "Raise your hands before making any suggestions."
"If I may Professor," Liliver’s dueling partner Vivienne said, her hand raised, "perhaps a head-to-toe black cloak to prevent our innocent eyes from seeing that monstrosity?"
"Okay." Cardan said and pulled Jude toward one end of the classroom. The students could dimly hear some parts of the conversation--
"....yes very smart....no idea of spell....now put it back..."
"ah...admit...thief of my precious Honeydukes chocolates.....knew it!....change back....over my dead body.....!!"
"I'm not distressed.....know I rock this hairstyle....I'm really....good-looking...but Ministry meeting...today....don't want old farts....getting strokes...God knows…that Skeeter….is doing that enough….already."
"What the hell? It's not fair. How can he rock this ridiculous hairstyle so well?" Liliver remarked.
"Are you kidding me? No he doesn't. He looks like a goth unicorn." Vivi replied.
"A good looking goth unicorn. A duality of fashion. I too shall dye my hair. I'm inspired."
"Sure. But I wouldn't suggest pink hair, veryy few people can rock it, in my expert opini--"
"Yes, yes only Heather can rock it, I know. Literally everyone knows. I'm still surprised she said yes to you, such a sweet girl, you’ll corrupt her…"
"Listen here you shit--"
"Okay students! Enough eavesdropping, get back to your positions!" Jude said. "By the end of this lecture I want you all--you all-- to have learned at least a passable rendering of the protego charm! Note that you’ll be kept back until you all can do it!" The students wouldn't dare audibly groan but their expressions spoke a thousand words. In front of them, Professor Cardan, now back to his same old black hair, snickered visibly at their misfortune and stalked out of the classroom.
"It's all his fault." Vivi muttered quietly. "She is mad at him and is taking it out on us."
'