A/N: Thanks very much to every person that reviewed the last (depressing) chapter. It is much appreciated and hope you'll enjoy this one. Rock on!
Chapter Nine - Beneath the Vast Cathedral of Sky
"You two ready to go, then?" Hermione Potter inquired of her two sons on the brightly sunny but cold day in
September that the Woodlands Wizarding Day School reopened.
There was a sudden blur of motion as the two boys jumped up excitedly. "Yeah!" they chorused.
Their mother smiled, even as she felt the telltale prickling of tears on the backs of her eyelids. Her boys looked so smart in their navy blue robes with the Woodlands crest (two wands crossed and emitting a sprinkle of stars over a lush forest) on the left, navy and grey clip-on ties, shiny new black shoes, fingernails clean for the next hour or so. When did Ben get so tall? He wasn't even nine yet... and Luke. Five years old already! Wasn't it just yesterday he was a screaming infant and she was crying right along with him out of sheer helplessness? Why did they have to grow up so quickly?
"Mum! Let's go!" shouted Luke, jolting Hermione from her reverie. He picked up his knapsack and ran to the front door, turning back to see if his mother and brother were following.
Ben was rummaging in his bag for something, a frown on his face, his hair already resembling a rat's nest in spite of his mother's hopeful attempts at taming it. The frown cleared as he found what he was looking for and he too walked over to the door.
"Hang on. Dad had to take Vina to the potty," Hermione said, trying not to appear to be stalling, which was what she was doing. She had so enjoyed having all her children home full-time during the summer and that had now come to an end. First Emerson had gone back to Hogwarts and now the boys were going off to Woodlands. Who would have thought that bookish Hermione Granger would be dragging her feet about school?
"Hurry up, Vina! Pee really fast!" Luke yelled in the direction of the bathroom, hopping from one leg to the other as if he too was in need of a potty break. "We're going to schooooooo-" He broke off as his father came into the room, leading Davina by the hand. "Let's go, Daddy!"
Harry chuckled. "In a hurry, are we?" He ruffled the chocolate curls of his youngest son as he opened the door and the boys flew out like the devil was chasing them. "Let's get going, then," he added, unnecessarily.
Hermione picked up her daughter and shut the door behind her, listening to the telltale hum that was the house sealing itself against any intruder, which was basically anyone it didn't recognize. All points of entry into Ballynore knew who could and couldn't enter the Potter household and the charms on the estate were among the most powerful in the world. Polyjuice Potion, for instance, was useless. Harry and Hermione took no chances with the safety of their family.
"And awaaaaaaaay we go!" cried Luke, throwing his arms wide as Harry backed the Jaguar out of the driveway. "Ah, man! Only one more year and I go to your part of the school, right, Ben?"
Ben glanced over at his brother. "Yeah. And God help us all."
Harry snorted softly so only Hermione heard him and she smiled to herself. Yeah, God help the teachers at Woodlands when Luke began going full-time. Right now, he was in nursery school, so he only went half-days. And from what his teacher had told her, he was already a handful.
Woodlands was divided into a nursery school and a regular school. The school began admitting children as young as eighteen months and they remained in the nursery section until grade one when they moved over to the regular school.
Woodlands operated under the expectation that all of their kids would receive Hogwarts letters by their thirteenth birthdays. The regular school educated the children only up to that age and if a child didn't get a letter, that was just too bad. The parents would need to find other accommodation for the humiliated child because Woodlands had nothing to offer beyond that point. Such an occurrence was extremely rare, fortunately; something like that had only occurred twice in the school's fourteen year history.
"So, Ben, you looking forward to seeing Miss McDonald?" Harry asked coyly, glancing in the rearview mirror at his son, who was predictably flipping through a book.
Ben blushed. "She's my teacher, Dad."
"Not just any teacher," his father continued, his eyes twinkling. "Didn't you say-"
"Harry," Hermione interrupted softly, a smile tugging at her lips.
Her husband grinned over at her and she shook her head. Harry loved teasing Ben about his teacher, Miss McDonald. Woodlands had a non-rotating teacher system. That is, a teacher got assigned to a beginning class, usually of three-year-olds, and he or she remained with them until they left the school. The only other teacher that the kids usually had, other than occasional substitutes for their main teacher, was Madame Chanson, the music teacher. With so much time spent together, the kids invariably became very attached to their teacher and s/he to them.
And Ben was very attached to Miss McDonald, to the point of once declaring that he was going to marry her.
Hermione turned to look into the backseat at her eldest son, who was now reading to his sister and brother. He must have felt her gaze because he looked up at her and smiled so adorably that she wanted to weep. He looked and acted so much like Harry that sometimes she wondered if she really had had any part in creating him. Seeing Ben always brought her back to her first year at Hogwarts, when she'd met Harry and he'd been so small and skinny. He'd been so young, and yet so much had already happened to him and would continue to happen that year.
Thankfully, Ben was neither small nor overly skinny; he was perfectly normal for his age. And his life, she was happy to say, had so far been free of any hurt more major than normal childhood mishaps.
Oh, she loved them so much! The ebony-haired boy with the round glasses that kept slipping down his nose. The rambunctious green-eyed one currently yelling, "Pick me! Pick me!" for some reason. The adorable little girl with the hazel eyes like Ben's, who was laughing and kicking her feet at her brothers' antics. The lovely young girl away at Hogwarts, child not of her body but of her heart.
Perhaps she'd made a sound, because Harry suddenly reached out and touched her cheek. The depth of feeling in his eyes - there was no need for him to speak but he did. "I love you."
"I love you too, Harry," she said somewhat croakily, the emotion swelling within her.
"Kiss! Kiss!" cried Davina from the back and her parents laughed.
"I don't know whether to be pleased or alarmed by that," Harry said as he drove into Woodlands' wide, red brick courtyard with the tinkling bowtruckle fountain in the center. On their first visit to the campus, Hermione had commented that she thought the fountain was rather appropriate considering the name of the school, in keeping with the trees/woods theme and all, but Harry had said it looked and sounded "wimpy". Whatever that meant.
The boys jumped out of the car as soon as their father shut it off and Hermione went around to remove the Restraining Charm on her daughter. Harry shut his door and pocketed the keys, which was just force of habit. The car didn't need keys to operate. It ran on magic but since the Potters ventured into Muggle London quite a bit, they'd kept the keys for appearance's sake.
"I mean, you don't think we're too demonstrative in front of the kids, do you?" he continued, even as he lightly pinched her bum then glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Ben and Luke were already halfway to the open doors of their school with the crowd milling around in front so they were safe in that regard.
Hermione turned around and handed Davina over to him. "No, I don't think we are. They know Mummy and Daddy love each other very much."
"Mummy and Daddy love each other," parroted Davina seriously, in the kind of voice that one uses to state solid, indisputable facts such as, "The Earth is round" or "Malfoy is a git".
Harry nodded. "Yep, they do."
"And Ben."
"Yeah, and Ben."
"And Luke."
"Definitely."
The little girl's eyes lit up. "And Emma!"
Harry chuckled and dropped a kiss on the small nose. "Absolutely."
"And Vina?"
Her father hugged her close and tickled her lightly so she squealed. "And Vina. No doubt about it."
'Suburban bliss and Harry Potter in the same sentence, who'd have thunk it?' Hermione Potter mused to herself as she walked hand in hand with her husband across the red brick towards their excitedly chattering children. Fate, it seemed, was not without a sense of irony - lavishing normality on the offspring of the one whose childhood it had labored tirelessly to ensure was as far from normal as was possible.
She was just thankful that she got to be a part of it. Her husband loved her and she loved him. Their children were safe and happy. And all was right with their world.
Or so she thought.
*******
"Ben! Over here!"
Ben's head whipped around and he grinned. His best friend, Andy Wood, was beckoning to him from the other side of the crowded entrance hall. His parents had just left to take Budget over to the nursery school and Ben was on his way to his classroom.
This part of the school was always a favorite lounging place between classes. The walls were smooth stone, brightly and colorfully painted with images and words in ode to learning. It did take getting used to the way a whole section of the wall art would sometimes move about or suddenly decide to change their colors, but it definitely added to the "coolness" of the building.
Elbowing his way through the throng, his ears ringing with the shouts and chatter of his schoolmates, he managed to reach his friend without getting too battered. "Hey. When did you get here?"
"Not very long ago," Andy replied, shrugging. Then his blue eyes lit up. "But did you hear? Field trip this year is to the Bertie Bott's factory and we get to-"
"Hey, Ben! Have a good summer?" someone interrupted loudly from right behind him, but before he could even turn around, his best friend had already made an outburst.
"Why don't you get some bloody manners, Pretty Boy? I was having a conversation," Andy barked, a scowl twisting his features.
"Excuuuse me. And don't call me 'Pretty Boy'!" snapped the dark-haired boy who had interrupted, drawing himself up in an attempt to look taller than he actually was.
The two boys were glaring at each other but Ben didn't even bother trying to hide his grin. This was a sight as familiar as the sunset.
The dark-haired boy's name was actually Rajiv Patil-Thomas but all of their schoolmates called him 'Pretty Boy'. He was the only child of Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas, who were still together but had never married (to the consternation of Parvati's devout Sikh parents). Dean and Parvati considered themselves too ultra-modern for something as "conformist" as marriage; she was a writer for Gladrags Fashion Magazine and Dean owned a pair of art galleries, one in Diagon Alley and one in Muggle London.
Poor Rajiv had been stuck with that nickname for as long as Ben could remember. Rajiv hated it but he couldn't get away because he really was pretty for a boy. For instance, Ben had once heard his mum talking about Rajiv's "big, doe eyes fringed by eyelashes long enough to make any woman jealous."
Ben was actually the only one of his peers to call him by his real name, a fact that had bewildered Rajiv enough for him to ask Ben about that.
"I mean, everybody else calls me by that blasted nickname. But you don't. How come?" the younger boy had inquired curiously.
Ben had shrugged. "Cause Rajiv's your name. Isn't it?"
And that had been that. Ben had given up on trying to get his friends to do the same, however. In fact, he rather thought Andy especially liked riling Rajiv up by calling him by his hated nickname.
"Why don't you run along now, Pretty?" Andy was saying dismissively. "I think they're changing the nappies in your class."
"I'm only a year younger than you are, so just sod off, Wood!"
Andy opened his mouth, no doubt to impart some kind of stinging barb, but Ben shot him a look and he settled for shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the wall, his scowl deepening.
"Anyway, what I came by to tell you was there's a new kid in my class," Rajiv intoned, leaving off his glaring.
This got the attention of both Ben and Andy. It was very unusual, and hence very intriguing, for new students to enter so late in the grade system. Rajiv was in grade three and most class rosters had been well-established by then. After all, how long did it take a parent in the Wizarding world to realize that their child was, fortunately, magical? Magical children came from all over Britain to attend Woodlands, just as they did Hogwarts, so distance was not an issue. Could it be a foreigner?
"Know who he is?" Ben asked, leading the way to the grade three classroom, hoping for a peek at the new kid.
Rajiv trotted along beside him. "No. I'd never seen him before and I didn't get a chance to ask his name."
But just then, the bell rang and the boys had to split up, Rajiv to his classroom while Ben and Andy continued down the hall to the grade four room. Ben felt his face grow hot when he saw his teacher, Miss McDonald, standing at the blackboard, writing on it with her wand. Miss McDonald was at that strange in-between age place, old enough to command their respect but young enough to inspire crushes in her male students and hero-worship in her girls. Ben, who thought girls in general were gross, nevertheless was quite taken by Miss McDonald, who obviously wasn't a girl. She was a woman and there was a difference; though what exactly that difference was, he couldn't tell you.
"Hello Ben, Andy," his teacher said, smiling at them from behind her desk.
Ben smiled back shyly. "Good morning, Miss."
"Good morning, Miss," Andy mimicked quietly in a ridiculously sing-songy voice and Ben elbowed him as they walked to their seats. Of course he hadn't sounded like that!
The room settled down quickly. Ignoring the girls who were glancing at him and giggling - Why did they keep doing that, anyway? Did he have dirt on his nose or something? - Ben leaned back in his chair and looked around. He truly liked it here. There was something comforting about his classroom with its rickety bookshelves and ink-stained desks. There were lots of bright posters on the walls, as well as a section devoted to what Miss McDonald loved to call "Superb Work!".
In this room though, once upon a time, he'd been bored beyond belief. Woodlands taught the basics; the three R's: reading, writing and arithmetic, as well as basic science and music. Since the children were too young to even own wands, the founders of the school had decided to leave all magical instruction up to Hogwarts. So Woodlands, essentially, merely taught structured reading and writing. But by the time he was seven years old, Ben was reading at the highest level that Woodlands offered and the only class that challenged him even a little was science.
Restless, he'd complained to his parents who, after having long discussions, had decided to enroll him in some prestigious Muggle private school until Hogwarts. They'd informed him of their decision and he'd been so upset that he'd cried for hours. He didn't want to leave Woodlands, even though they weren't challenging him there. He didn't want to leave his friends or Miss McDonald whom, he tearfully informed his parents, he was going to marry and, "If I leave, some other bloke will woo her!"
Ben didn't know it, but that had given his parents a good laugh in private. ("Imagine our seven-year-old talking about 'wooing'!"). Somehow, his Mum and Dad had worked something out with Miss McDonald and Headmistress Esson so he could stay at Woodlands with his classmates, but be given more demanding schoolwork.
So it was smiles all around. Ben was challenged without leaving his school or his friends. Nor his 'future bride', Miss McDonald.
"Welcome, Class, to another year!" his teacher was saying, smiling out at them from the front of the room, her shoulder-length brown hair framing her face. "I'm trusting you all had a good summer?"
The class murmured excitedly, everyone clearly hankering to share their adventures to their favorite teacher.
"That's good. But this summer, I was thinking back to my own school days and something I remember doing on the first day back at school after every summer holiday was writing an essay."
Most of the girls immediately began whispering giddily while the boys groaned aloud. What the heck did essays have to do with summer?
Miss McDonald held up her hand, effectively shushing the whispers and grumblings. "I'm not finished. Now, instead of everyone simply reciting what you did on your holiday, I want you to write it down. Then we will take turns reading to the class what we've written. I'll give you all of today to do that and tomorrow we'll begin sharing. Any questions? Yes, Andy?"
Ben turned to look at his friend, who had his hand in the air. "What if I can say it all in one sentence? 'This summer I went to an awesome Quidditch camp with my Dad and brother.'"
Ben snickered. It was just like Andy to try to take the easiest way out of schoolwork.
"Essays will need to be at least a full page," Miss McDonald replied, and she seemed to be fighting a smile.
"Bollocks," muttered Andy, scratching the back of his dirty-blond head as he grudgingly picked up his quill.
The teacher instructed them to begin after doing a quick review of the rules for paragraphs, headings and other such elements of writing. For the next hour, the only sounds were the scratching of quills on parchment, occasional whispers, smothered giggles and other sounds that a roomful of children typically make. Ben was completely occupied with writing about the trip his family had taken to Godric's Hollow, Wales, so that by the time they recessed for lunch, he'd forgotten his curiosity regarding the new kid.
Which was why he stared in bewilderment when Rajiv ran up to him and said, "There he is!"
"Who?"
"The new sprog," Rajiv blurted. "Remember?"
"Oh, right," Ben said, turning to look in the direction in which Rajiv was pointing. "That one?"
"Yeah."
"Merlin, he looks like a runt, doesn't he?" Andy commented, peering at the stranger as if inspecting a litter of puppies for the one most likely to be shoved aside at the mother's teats.
Ben would never say it out loud, but he kind of agreed with Andy. The new boy was even shorter than Rajiv, who was at least a head smaller than Ben and Andy. He was standing alone by the side of the playground beside the big beech tree but not quite under it, as if afraid of encroaching on the tree's territory. His appearance set him even more apart from his peers. All the kids were decked out in their back-to-school finery, new robes and shoes. The new kid's robes were patched and at least two shades lighter, but very clean. Obviously bought second-hand. Even from a few yards away, Ben could tell that his trainers were well-worn, although, like his robes, they were very clean.
"His name's Arnie," Rajiv whispered. "Doesn't he look pathetic?"
The rush of pity for the new kid that suddenly surged caught him by surprise and made Ben's response come out sharper than he'd intended. "What do you mean he looks pathetic?"
Rajiv looked startled. "What? I meant- just, his clothes, like-"
"C'mon," Ben said to Andy, suddenly much more irritated with himself than he was with Rajiv. Why were they standing around staring at and discussing the poor kid like he was some kind of freak in a zoo? Surely he had it hard enough being at a new school without any friends? Besides, Ben knew what it was like being stared and pointed at because of something one had no control over. It wasn't as if it was obscure knowledge that he was the son of the legendary Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.
As lunch progressed, Ben couldn't help glancing over at Arnie a few more times, however. Everyone was sitting outside eating the lunches that they'd brought from home and Ben couldn't help noticing that all Arnie ate was a big red apple. He watched the way Arnie's eyes darted around, taking in his schoolmates happily munching their fat sandwiches and treacle tarts.
"Is that all he had to eat?" Andy asked loudly, craning his neck to see over the heads of their classmates, his cheeks bulging with steak and kidney pie.
"Dunno," Ben replied, embarrassed for some reason. Perhaps Arnie had already eaten the rest of his lunch, and had saved the apple for last.
And why were they still goggling? He elbowed Andy, hard; his friend yelped and returned the favor and in the wrestling match that ensued, staring and other such rudeness were rendered truly and effectively obsolete.
*****
But the next day, it was the same thing over again. Arnie ate his big red apple, then sat around trying not to watch everyone else downing their mince pies and jam doughnuts. Again, Ben felt that uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and sympathy. Right there and then, he came up with a quick plan that he put into action that night after dinner.
He was helping his mum clear the table, something he loved to do because she let him use her wand to clear the plates. He couldn't have a wand of his own until Hogwarts, so this was the next best thing. Budget and Vina were cuddled up with Dad on the porch swing outside, too full to do much more than smile and emit contented sighs.
"Scourgify," he said cheerily, waving the wand at the casserole dish the way his mother had shown him. The last of the peas, carrots and gravy vanished and he grinned. Looking up suddenly, he said, "Mum, can I have an extra sandwich tomorrow?"
Hermione glanced at him in surprise. "Why?"
"A growing lad sometimes needs additional nourishment," Ben replied in what he hoped was an endearing tone of voice.
It must have been because his mother smiled and hugged him suddenly. Fighting his mortification (and secret delight), he let her hold him for longer than the normal three seconds. This was for a good cause, after all. "Yes, you do," she said softly.
Ben suppressed the twinge of guilt he felt at her words. She obviously thought he was talking about himself. But was this wrong? It wasn't as if he was lying for his own benefit, was it? "So can I?"
"May you what?"
"Have an extra sandwich?" he repeated, peering up at her through his glasses.
She chuckled. "I don't see why not."
"Wicked! Thanks, Mum."
Objective One: Check.
Later that night, he lay in bed staring about his blurry room (he didn't have on his glasses), trying to devise ways of offering the sandwich to Arnie without it coming across as pity. Even if he didn't have a lot of money, surely Arnie still had his pride and Ben knew he'd personally rather go hungry than have food offered to him in such a way that it would hurt his dignity to accept it.
His little brother made an odd slurping sound in the bed across from him and Ben yawned and rolled over, trying not to fall asleep yet. He wanted to have the next part of the plan worked out before he went to school the next day. After a few more minutes of tossing, he decided that the best way would be to try to come across as non-threatening as possible.. try to.. be.. friend... sleepy...
******
"Hey, can I sit here?" Ben asked brightly of the small, mousy-haired boy who was sitting alone on the grass beneath the beech tree. Apparently, permission to encroach on the tree's territory had been granted. Ben had told Andy that he couldn't eat with him today but hadn't really given an explanation. He'd just thought it would probably be easier for Arnie to accept help if he didn't have an audience.
Arnie shrugged. Up close, Ben could see that there was a small hole in his left trainer and that Arnie's nails were bitten to the quick. "It's a free country."
Ben sat and, after a few minutes of uncertainty, opened his lunch bag. He knew what was inside but pretended to be surprised by the sight of the two neatly wrapped sandwiches nestled between the bottle of pumpkin juice, the banana and the wedge of cherry pie. "Uh-oh. Looks like my Mum made a mistake and gave me an extra sarnie. Want one?" he asked, holding it out.
Arnie's eyes darted quickly to Ben's outstretched hand and back before he muttered, "No, thanks."
Ben sighed as he unwrapped one. "That's too bad. There's no way I'll be able to eat both of them and I'd hate for it to go to waste."
He took a big bite and let his eyes drift shut as he chewed. And no, that wasn't an act because boy, could his Mum cook! The weirdest thing was she couldn't do it with a wand like Grandmum Weasley at the Burrow. Mum could only cook the Muggle way and, perhaps to make up for her frustration at not being able to do it with her wand, she'd worked really hard to master the art of Muggle cooking.
Ben thought his Mum was the best cook in the world and, frankly, that was saying something because he knew a lot of good cooks. Like Dad's friend Jamie Oliver. "This is good! You sure you don't want it? Oh, go on!"
Arnie shrugged his thin shoulders again, but Ben could sense that his resistance was crumbling. "Don't want your charity."
"Then you can definitely have this, cause it's not charity. It's a sandwich!" Ben replied cheerily, shoving the package into the other boy's hand. "You'll like that. It's chicken, ham and swiss with mustard. My Mum makes the best ones."
It took all he had not to whoop when Arnie, after a long moment of hesitation, unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. The other boy chewed slowly, holding the sarnie gingerly in his hands as if expecting it to vanish if he grasped it too tight, his blue eyes determinedly fixed on some point just beyond the horizon.
Finally- "It's good."
Ben grinned, feeling a thrill of success race down his spine. "I told ya."
Objective Two: Check.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ben decided to chance more. "I'm Ben Potter. What's your name?"
"Arnie Shriver." There was a brief pause in which Ben felt Arnie sneaking glances at him. Then- "Is Harry Potter your dad?"
How very predictable. "Yeah, he is."
Arnie looked awestruck. "Wow! What's that like?"
"Dunno. He's just my Dad," Ben replied, shrugging. Actually, he was used to questions like these. The trick was to downplay it because really, his father was just like anybody else's father. He just happened to be famous as well. "What about your Dad? What does he do?"
"He's a Muggle," Arnie blurted, somewhat defensively, as if he expected Ben to attack him over that piece of information.
"My Grandpa Granger's a Muggle," Ben supplied matter-of-factly and felt, rather than saw, Arnie relax. "What does your Dad do?"
It took Arnie a while to answer. "Nothing right now. But he's trying really hard to find work. My Mum has to stay home with my little brothers. They're twins."
'So that's why his shoes are worn and he doesn't have any lunch,' Ben mused to himself, as he listened to the other boy crumpling the empty wrapper in his fists. He silently resolved to bring Arnie something every day from now on, if he could. He was sure Mum wouldn't mind.
"I have a big brother, but he went away to Hogwarts this year," Arnie was saying. He all of a sudden seemed to have a lot to say. Maybe that was what hunger did - it made you mute and eating something cures the verbal lockjaw. Hmm, something to read up on or ask Mum or Dad about...
Ben looked over at him. "My sister, Emerson, is at Hogwarts too."
"I can't wait to go there. It sounds so awesome," Arnie spouted, his blue eyes suddenly coming alive. "Mum told us so many cool stories about going to school there."
"Yeah, it's really neat," Ben agreed. "My sister said-"
"Oi, Ben!" came a shout from the right. It was Andy. "There you are. What're you doing sitting over he- oh." Andy's eyes landed on Arnie and he frowned. "What're you sitting with him for?"
Ben glared at him. "It's a free country, isn't it?" he echoed, and thought he saw a flicker of a grin on Arnie's face.
Andy stared down at them indecisively for a long moment before he flopped down on the grass too. "Whatever. I'm Andy Wood. You're Arnie, right?"
The smaller boy gave a tic of a nod.
"Welcome to Woodlands, Arnie. So what's your team?"
Ben laughed. Trust Andy to insert Quidditch just like that! For all his occasional flashes of mean-spiritedness, Andy really was cool. And in no time at all, the three of them were arguing Quidditch and jokingly mocking each other in that bewildering way that boys do.
The sense of accomplishment and pride that Ben felt over what he'd done did not quickly diminish. He and Arnie never spoke about it but over the next few days, he brought what he could from home to share with his new friend at lunchtime.
He decided not to tell his parents where the extra food was really going, though. No reason to embarrass hilarious, Chudley Cannons-loving Arnie, his new pal.
Objective Three: Check.
Because everybody deserved to have a friend.
******
End Notes:
1. In case anyone is wondering about Woodlands' enrollment being open to age 13, whereas in canon Hogwarts letters are sent out at age 11, this was just my way of providing a loophole for.. ahem.. dunces (think Crabbe, Goyle, Marcus Flint).
2. The title of this chapter is from one of the first poems I ever memorized, by a Jamaican poet named Roger Mais. Oh, I love it still! It's entitled: Children Coming Home From School
I can hear
The gospel of little feet
Go choiring down
The dusty asphalt road.
Beneath the vast cathedral of sky
With the sun for steeple,
Evangelizing with laughter,
Go the shining ones-
The little people
3. Please review! Thanks :)