"He's not very like any of the other professors, is he?" Harry
suddenly said, still staring out the window. "He's an American,
for one."
"Charlie says he's a muggleborn," Ginny pointed out. "I don't
think we've ever had a muggleborn defense professor before. I
*know* we've never had an American professor before."
Ron snorted. "Charlie said a lot of things about him, and you
can't believe half of them. I certainly don't believe he took
down a dragon by himself."
The twins shared a pair of knowing grins while Hermione turned to
look at Ron. "Took down a dragon? What letter was that in? I
thought I heard all the letters Charlie wrote to your family this
summer."
"Charlie owled me a couple times," Ron answered shrugging. "Just
me."
"And you didn't share them..." Hermione began, before Fred cut
her off.
"So what about a dragon?"
Ron perked up. "Oh, right. Charlie said the day he met Doug..."
"*Professor Sangnoir*," Hermione grumbled, folding her arms
across her chest again.
"...he knocked a dragon out cold by punching it once, hard,
between the eyes." Ron snorted again. "Bollocks, if you ask me.
There's no way you could get close enough to a dragon to punch
it. Charlie was just trying to take the mickey out of me, like
when I was real little."
"Well," Fred offered, "you *were* quite gullible as a five-year-
old. When I think of all the things we told you..."
"Don't remind me," Ron growled, and the twins laughed.
"He's not comfortable with robes," Hermione suddenly said, as a
few pieces of information gelled together.
"What's that?" Ginny asked.
Hermione looked up and around at the others. "He may be a
muggleborn, but I don't think he's been raised in the Wizarding
World. The first thing he did when he came inside was pull off
his robes -- and he was wearing muggle clothes underneath --
muggle clothes that were broken in and comfortable."
"We noticed that," George said. "What did that writing on his
shirt mean? 'I do all my own special effects'?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Special effects are... well, there are
muggle entertainments that, as part of their story, have to show
things that look like magic, or futuristic technology, that
aren't really possible. For muggles, at least. So to do this,
they have a whole field of work in which people come up with
the... well, the *illusion* of magic for those stories. And
that's called 'special effects'. You know," she said as a
thought occurred to her, "some of what you two do could be
considered 'special effects'." She thought for a moment as the
twins shared a grin and a wink. "I think that that T-shirt might
be a joking way for Professor Sangnoir to say 'I'm a wizard!' to
the entire muggle world without anyone being the wiser."
"Wicked!" Ron breathed. "Like he's giving the bird to the
Secrecy Statutes."
Hermione sighed and continued. "Another thing -- he's not
carrying a wand."
The room, except for Harry, was in a sudden uproar. Hermione
waited for it to die down enough to shout over. "I mean it.
T-shirt with bare arms -- no place to hide a wand 'up a sleeve'.
No wand in his belt. His jeans are too tight to hide a wand in
a pocket or down a leg -- if he could even fit one in, we'd see
it. No wand holsters anywhere -- in fact, the only thing he's
got that looks like a holster is the wrong size for a wand
completely." She looked about smugly. "Ergo, no wand."
"So... he's really a muggle?" Ron said after a moment.
"No," Fred answered immediately. "First off, this place has all
kinds of muggle-repelling wards on it -- Black family home, after
all. He got through them as easily as Charlie did."
"And he did get hired as Defense professor," George continued.
"Say what you want, I don't think Charlie would prank us like
that, and I don't think he'd get a coworker to help him with it.
So unless Dumbledore is completely barmy..."
"Which people *have* been saying for years," Ron pointed out.
George nodded. "Unless he's *so* barmy that he'd hire a muggle
to teach defense, then Sangnoir's *got* to be a wizard."
"Harry?" Hermione said, looking over to where Harry still stood
by the window. "What do you think?"
For a long moment Harry appeared not to have heard her at all, so
distracted was he by the view outside. Then he blurted out, "He
has no idea who I am."
The other five exchanged confused looks.
"What?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean, he has no idea who
you are?"
"You're joking, right, mate?" Ron added.
Harry turned around from the window for the first time, shaking
his head. "Didn't you notice? Meeting Charlie was like when I
first met your dad, Ron -- he didn't look at my scar or anything,
he was just like, 'oh, you're Ron's friend Harry'. But Doug..."
"*Professor Sangnoir*!" Hermione insisted.
Harry shot her a glance. "But he didn't even react *that* much.
It was like Charlie said, 'This is John Smith'. I was just
another teenager out of a half-dozen to him." Harry's eyes shone
with an emotion Hermione couldn't identify, but felt she should.
"He's never heard of the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived'!"
"But how is that possible?" Ginny asked. "Everybody knows about
you!"
"Even as far away as Japan and Bangladesh they tell your story,"
Hermione confirmed. "You can't go anywhere in the Wizarding
World and *not* find it in the history books."
"Lovely," Harry muttered, half to himself.
"He *is* a muggleborn," Ron reminded them unnecessarily. "Maybe
that's why?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "*I'm* a muggleborn, Ron, and I knew
about Harry before I even got on the Express our first year."
"Yeah, but you're obsessed with books," Ron said offhandedly.
"He doesn't look like the kind who would be."
"He's clearly in his 30s, Ron," she pointed out. "He'd've had to
have heard the story by now even if he couldn't read."
Ginny ignored the interplay between Ron and Hermione and instead
looked at Harry, who seemed almost to be in another place
entirely. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
He turned his attention to her and smiled at her, a broad,
gleaming smile unlike any he'd ever before worn in her presence.
"I think it's bloody brilliant that we're going to have a
professor who doesn't give a damn who I am for once."
"Harry, language," Hermione sniffed prudishly, but then her lips
quirked into a tiny smile of her own. "It *will* be a new and
unusual experience for us, won't it?"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
suddenly said, still staring out the window. "He's an American,
for one."
"Charlie says he's a muggleborn," Ginny pointed out. "I don't
think we've ever had a muggleborn defense professor before. I
*know* we've never had an American professor before."
Ron snorted. "Charlie said a lot of things about him, and you
can't believe half of them. I certainly don't believe he took
down a dragon by himself."
The twins shared a pair of knowing grins while Hermione turned to
look at Ron. "Took down a dragon? What letter was that in? I
thought I heard all the letters Charlie wrote to your family this
summer."
"Charlie owled me a couple times," Ron answered shrugging. "Just
me."
"And you didn't share them..." Hermione began, before Fred cut
her off.
"So what about a dragon?"
Ron perked up. "Oh, right. Charlie said the day he met Doug..."
"*Professor Sangnoir*," Hermione grumbled, folding her arms
across her chest again.
"...he knocked a dragon out cold by punching it once, hard,
between the eyes." Ron snorted again. "Bollocks, if you ask me.
There's no way you could get close enough to a dragon to punch
it. Charlie was just trying to take the mickey out of me, like
when I was real little."
"Well," Fred offered, "you *were* quite gullible as a five-year-
old. When I think of all the things we told you..."
"Don't remind me," Ron growled, and the twins laughed.
"He's not comfortable with robes," Hermione suddenly said, as a
few pieces of information gelled together.
"What's that?" Ginny asked.
Hermione looked up and around at the others. "He may be a
muggleborn, but I don't think he's been raised in the Wizarding
World. The first thing he did when he came inside was pull off
his robes -- and he was wearing muggle clothes underneath --
muggle clothes that were broken in and comfortable."
"We noticed that," George said. "What did that writing on his
shirt mean? 'I do all my own special effects'?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Special effects are... well, there are
muggle entertainments that, as part of their story, have to show
things that look like magic, or futuristic technology, that
aren't really possible. For muggles, at least. So to do this,
they have a whole field of work in which people come up with
the... well, the *illusion* of magic for those stories. And
that's called 'special effects'. You know," she said as a
thought occurred to her, "some of what you two do could be
considered 'special effects'." She thought for a moment as the
twins shared a grin and a wink. "I think that that T-shirt might
be a joking way for Professor Sangnoir to say 'I'm a wizard!' to
the entire muggle world without anyone being the wiser."
"Wicked!" Ron breathed. "Like he's giving the bird to the
Secrecy Statutes."
Hermione sighed and continued. "Another thing -- he's not
carrying a wand."
The room, except for Harry, was in a sudden uproar. Hermione
waited for it to die down enough to shout over. "I mean it.
T-shirt with bare arms -- no place to hide a wand 'up a sleeve'.
No wand in his belt. His jeans are too tight to hide a wand in
a pocket or down a leg -- if he could even fit one in, we'd see
it. No wand holsters anywhere -- in fact, the only thing he's
got that looks like a holster is the wrong size for a wand
completely." She looked about smugly. "Ergo, no wand."
"So... he's really a muggle?" Ron said after a moment.
"No," Fred answered immediately. "First off, this place has all
kinds of muggle-repelling wards on it -- Black family home, after
all. He got through them as easily as Charlie did."
"And he did get hired as Defense professor," George continued.
"Say what you want, I don't think Charlie would prank us like
that, and I don't think he'd get a coworker to help him with it.
So unless Dumbledore is completely barmy..."
"Which people *have* been saying for years," Ron pointed out.
George nodded. "Unless he's *so* barmy that he'd hire a muggle
to teach defense, then Sangnoir's *got* to be a wizard."
"Harry?" Hermione said, looking over to where Harry still stood
by the window. "What do you think?"
For a long moment Harry appeared not to have heard her at all, so
distracted was he by the view outside. Then he blurted out, "He
has no idea who I am."
The other five exchanged confused looks.
"What?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean, he has no idea who
you are?"
"You're joking, right, mate?" Ron added.
Harry turned around from the window for the first time, shaking
his head. "Didn't you notice? Meeting Charlie was like when I
first met your dad, Ron -- he didn't look at my scar or anything,
he was just like, 'oh, you're Ron's friend Harry'. But Doug..."
"*Professor Sangnoir*!" Hermione insisted.
Harry shot her a glance. "But he didn't even react *that* much.
It was like Charlie said, 'This is John Smith'. I was just
another teenager out of a half-dozen to him." Harry's eyes shone
with an emotion Hermione couldn't identify, but felt she should.
"He's never heard of the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived'!"
"But how is that possible?" Ginny asked. "Everybody knows about
you!"
"Even as far away as Japan and Bangladesh they tell your story,"
Hermione confirmed. "You can't go anywhere in the Wizarding
World and *not* find it in the history books."
"Lovely," Harry muttered, half to himself.
"He *is* a muggleborn," Ron reminded them unnecessarily. "Maybe
that's why?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "*I'm* a muggleborn, Ron, and I knew
about Harry before I even got on the Express our first year."
"Yeah, but you're obsessed with books," Ron said offhandedly.
"He doesn't look like the kind who would be."
"He's clearly in his 30s, Ron," she pointed out. "He'd've had to
have heard the story by now even if he couldn't read."
Ginny ignored the interplay between Ron and Hermione and instead
looked at Harry, who seemed almost to be in another place
entirely. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
He turned his attention to her and smiled at her, a broad,
gleaming smile unlike any he'd ever before worn in her presence.
"I think it's bloody brilliant that we're going to have a
professor who doesn't give a damn who I am for once."
"Harry, language," Hermione sniffed prudishly, but then her lips
quirked into a tiny smile of her own. "It *will* be a new and
unusual experience for us, won't it?"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
