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Harry, along with the other first years, stood in line by the door to their next class; WITCHING 101. Harry couldn’t help but overhear his fellow peers gossip to one another as they waited:
“My mam told me all about Professor Figgy -”
“- I heard she’s hundreds of years old, my gran swears -”
“-she’s a real life hag, bet she’s all warty -”
“- she sat on a throne looking over the sea -”
“ - they never recovered the boats that sunk -”
“- none ever survived if she -”
“My brother said she’s called The Wreckage Witch !”
The door to the class room was flung open, causing all the young children to jump out their skins. Harry held his breath, preparing himself to face a witch that he had read about in sticky books in the library back in Surrey. He was imagining sagging green skin with a horrible beak-like nose with a large wrinkled wart on the tip. Would she have any toes? Was she secretly bald? Harry was not going to be foolish enough to ask.
However the woman that stepped out was nothing like he imagined. In fact, out of all his professor’s she appeared the most Muggle-looking. She had curly, grey hair scrunched up on the top of her head in a bun, a few stray strands framed her face. She wore a billowy blouse, long wide legged trousers, black heels, and lots of jewelry. Harry saw, peaking through the mess of a bun his professor had, two slightly pointed ears.
Her eyes scanned over each and everyone of them, not looking very impressed. She jerked her head toward the inside of the classroom and said, “In.”
The first years shuffled into the classroom, it was dimly lit and wall to wall covered with shelves with all sorts of things in jars. There was a large blackboard at the front of the class beside the desk, noticeably there was a ship in a bottle on the desk that seemed to have real waves and little people running around on the ship. Harry slid in his seat beside Ron as Professor Figgy slowly walked toward the front of the classroom, her hands in pockets and taking her time.
She turned on her heel to face the class, her eyes, once again, scanning the students in the room. Again, she did not look impressed.
“Let’s get some things clear,” She started, pacing back and forth in front of the class. “1) I do not care about your background or what blood type you may have. You will learn in this class that blood is a stupid thing to believe in and if you walk out of my class still believing because your whole family are witches is the reason you are a witch, then I’m sorry that you came out thick, there’s not much I can do about that.”
Harry felt his eyes widen and he could see Hermione, from the corner of his eye, jaw drop. He didn’t know if it was normal in the magical world but Muggle teacher’s certainly wouldn’t call a student ‘thick’, even if they may think it.
“Number 2!” She continued, “You will raise your hand before speaking out. I will not be interrupted when speaking, and don’t way your hand about like you are drowning. I see you and I will get back to you.”
“Lastly, and most importantly,” She stopped in the middle, right in front of her students, and said. “Although the school considers this a core subject and has made it clear you should attend, I do not. I will not chase after you and I will expect you to be here. However crucial this class is to everything you will go on to do and be in your future lives, I will not teach people who do not wish to be taught. The door is always there for you, just close it behind you on your way out.”
Her eyes again looked at every face within her classroom. “Do I make myself clear?”
There was a round of wobbling heads.
“I’m sorry, are you all mutes? I said, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Professor Figgy.”
She gave a firm nod and moved on, “Now, the first and most important question: where does your magic come from? You!” She pointed, abruptly, at Hannah Abbott. The poor girl jumped at the suddenness and looked around her before pointing to herself. “Yes, you. Stand.”
Slowly, Hannah stood to her feet, her round face going very red.
“Where does your magic come from?” Professor Figgy asked once more. Hannah looked around, clearly not knowing the answer. “Come on, make a guess! If it’s wrong, I’m going to let you know.”
“Um…the heart?”
Harry could hear Malfoy and his big oafs snickering at her answer.
“Correct! Five points to Hufflepuff and sit.”
Hannah couldn’t drop to her seat quick enough and Malfoy had been quickly silenced, making Harry feel quite smug on Hannah’s behalf.
Professor Figgy moved towards her board and with a spin to the other side was an illustration of a heart.
“The human heart, this is what it typically looks like. I’m sure you know the job it has, pump blood and oxygen around the body. Now the difference is every heart in this room, in this very castle, does not look like this.” She spun the board again, an illustration of a heart that had not been there before was now visible. Harry tilted his head, this heart looked almost the exact same but there seemed to be a large lump attached to the bottom right hand side. “Your hearts look like this.”
She pointed to her finger at the lump that confused Harry and explained, “This is where your magic comes from. This is your bile sac, and each one contains magic phlegms that, along with your blood and oxygen, your heart pumps throughout your body. That’s why you might feel a twinkle of magic in your fingers and toes, it’s your heart working very hard to make sure magic is coursing through your body.”
Hermione hand shot up, Harry could see she was really struggling to not wave it around as it would be breaking Professor Figgy’s second rule. Said professor pointed to her.
“But why do we have those and Muggle’s don’t?”
“Already ahead of me, my dear.” Professor Figgy said. “I’m sure you’ll cover this in History of Magic so I’ll keep the history of it short: a long, long, long time ago the Earth was nothing more than a boiling sea. The only beings that could live on this planet were titans. But eventually those titans would die, likely from being clubbed by a fellow of their kind, and from their bodies life formed. Finally, things that were living in the boiling sea could evolve to come onto land and due to the enormous amount of magic exuding from the cadavers of these titans, things evolved to be able to do magic.
“Now, why do Muggles not have magic is the exact same reason your family's dog doesn’t do magic. They just don’t. There’s nothing wrong with them, we’re just different. Sub species to one another. But why do Muggles have magic children? A person who cannot perform magic themselves but has magical parents coming into your family's gene pool is a possibility but it could also be your parents absorbed a lot of magic at one point and with nowhere for it to go it went into you. There’s no way to know, but I’ll tell you one thing that is for sure:
“Muggle-borns have not and will never steal magic.” Professor Figgy said firmly. “Everyone that can perform magic produces it all on their own, it is not possible without the use of very dark magic which I doubt any eleven year old knows.”
Harry could hear someone scoff quietly behind him, he would've guessed it was Malfoy but he didn’t turn to check. He was actually very enraptured with Professor Figgy’s lecture. It was interesting to learn why he was so different and about where magic comes from. Yes, Professor was quite intimidating but she didn’t seem to hate Harry like Professor Snape. In fact, he noticed how she never even made a comment about him being there. He quite liked it. He was just another boy in her classroom that she wasn’t too impressed by. She also seemed to enjoy giving the lecture, clearly Professor Figgy was very passionate about her own subject and wanted to inform her students about it. Unlike Professor Snape who seemed to want to see Harry fail and rub it in his face.
Harry started making notes and drew out a very crude version of the heart displayed on the board, with labels and explanations of how things worked. He was so into his note making he did not realise his peers pack up their things and leave, and he did not realise Professor Figgy was standing over him until she knocked on the table.
“Class has been dismissed, Mr Potter.” She said, softly.
“Sorry,” Harry started to scramble his things. “I was listening, I promise, it’s just I-I…”
“I know. I believe your mother was quite similar.”
Harry stopped his scrambling and looked towards his Professor. “You knew my mother?”
“And your father, yes. I taught them a long time ago.” Professor FIggy said, her face not showing her emotions. “Your mother was always scribbling in my lectures. Reminded me of her mother, all apples of the same tree I suppose.”
“You taught my…grandmother?” Harry had never met any grandparents before. He certainly didn’t believe his mother’s mother, his Aunt Petunia, the most Muggle, Muggle, was the daughter of someone that studied at Hogwarts. Then Harry’s nose scrunched, “Wait, how old are you?”
“And, that is definitely your father!” She scolded, her voice no longer soft and gentle. It had returned to firm and loud. “Honestly, you Potter men never know when to keep a thought just that, a thought! Your grandfather and great grandfather were the exact same!”
“You knew my great grandfather?!”
“ Out, Potter! Go out and enjoy the last dregs of summer before I bury you in the ground, ensuring you never see the sun again!”
And, with that Harry scuttled out of his Witching 101 classroom. He was even more intrigued by his Witching Professor, now that he knew she had extensive knowledge of his relatives. It still begged the question: how old was Professor Figgy??