The fallout of the little curfew adventure went into effect directly. Harry, Ron, Hermoine and surprisingly Draco are getting detention. A bit different from what Ilvermorny would give, as this adventure gave them a to and return trip to the forbidden forest. In the middle of the night, Fun.
Fila didn't get to hear the punishment being given, but she would die to know how Draco managed to get punished too as he was the one to report them.
In the great hall for breakfast she had taken a seat next to Cedric with the little badgers this time.
Usually she sat with the professors, but she had grown very tired of how boring conversations had gone with Professor Flitwick.
Cedric looked mildly surprised when she dropped onto the bench beside him, but he shifted his pumpkin juice to make room without comment. A few younger Hufflepuffs glanced over, then quickly returned to their food once they realised the blindfolded visitor was not about to demand anything of them.
"Morning," Cedric said. "Didn't expect to see you on this side."
"Yeah thought I would see who the little badgers handle breakfast. In other words the professors are talking me to death." She said and reached for a piece of toast.
He huffed a quiet laugh.
"Well you are very welcome anytime." He said and took a sip of his tea.
Fila put butter on her toast, and looked around. Draco sat and looked angrier than ever at the Slytherin table. Behind her at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron and Hermoine sat with the saddest expressions trying to still eat some breakfast.
"So Cedric. What do you do? What's your favorite subject?" she asked.
Cedric set his cup down, considering the question with the same easy seriousness he seemed to bring to most things.
"Charms, probably," he said. "Flitwick makes it feel like there's always another layer to find if you look carefully enough. Transfiguration's close second. McGonagall doesn't let anyone get away with being sloppy, which I like." He glanced at her. "What about you? Or is that a dangerous question for someone who's already been through three schools?"
Fila took a bite of toast.
"Herbology. Always. And second would be transfiguration, its fun turning things into other things." She said, "Do you duel here?" Fila asked while looking at him.
But to her disappointment he shook his head, "No we don't have anything like that here. don't really know why. The closet thing we have is charms, only because Professor Flitwick used to be a dueling champion." He said.
Ophelia already turned her head and looked at the professor in question. And then back at Cedric.
"Him?" she said trying to get a clear picture.
Cedric and a couple of others around nodded.
Fila confused looked at his magic again and saw nothing here that pointed to him being good at dueling, sure he's a professor so his skills shouldn't be doubted. But from what she knew his magic should be spiky and a bit tense, yet his magic remained calm and didn't have the spiky.
"Any of the other professors have any secrets you would like to share?" she asked still trying to get her head around the first part.
He shrugged, "Not much to add actually, only that snape is scary. Atleast everyone thinks so."
She could somewhat see it, but she had spent to little time to see anything scary. But that would change as her first lesson this morning would be just that, potions.
"Don't even think about dropping a single drop of potion of the workstations. Is that understood?" he said in a stern voice to the class of first years.
Ophelia stood to the side and watched the class.
The dungeon classroom was colder than the rest of the castle, the air sharp with the smell of crushed roots, pickled things in jars, and old stone that never fully dried. Rows of first-years stood behind their cauldrons in varying states of nerves. Harry and Ron shared a station near the middle. Hermione had already arranged her ingredients with precise care. Draco Malfoy stood further back with Crabbe and Goyle, still radiating the same sullen anger he had carried at breakfast.
Snape moved between the desks like a shadow given purpose. His voice never rose, yet every student straightened when he passed.
Fila kept her place near the wall, arms loosely folded, observing.
Snape's magic was different from what the rumours had prepared her for. It was not loud or chaotic. It sat close to him, dark and tightly controlled, like a blade kept in its sheath. No wasted edges. No unnecessary display. The kind of magic that had been forced into discipline for so long it no longer remembered how to be anything else. Dangerous, yes — but not in the theatrical way students seemed to expect. More like a deep current that only became visible when something disturbed it.
She watched him correct a boy's grip on a knife without raising his voice. Watched him pause behind Hermione long enough to note the neatness of her preparation, then move on without comment. Watched the way Harry's shoulders tensed every time the professor's path brought him closer.
Snape stopped at the front again.
"The instructions are on the board. You will follow them exactly. Anyone who believes improvisation is a substitute for precision will find themselves rewriting the entire process after class." His gaze swept the room once. "Begin."
Cauldrons lit. Knives began to chop. The first nervous whispers started and were immediately silenced by a single look from the front.
Fila remained still, letting her sight move across the room in slow passes.
Hermoine showed that she is the smartest and most efficient in class directly.
Her knife work was precise, her measurements exact, her cauldron already settling into the correct shade while half the class still struggled with the first set of instructions. Snape passed her station once, glanced at the contents, and said nothing. From him, silence was almost praise.
Harry and Ron were managing, though Ron's chopping bordered on aggressive and Harry kept glancing up as if expecting criticism at any moment. Draco worked with stiff, resentful movements, still clearly more occupied with the coming detention than with the potion in front of him.
Fila remained by the wall, content to watch.
She did not expect Snape to change course.
He did.
After completing another slow circuit of the room, he stopped a short distance from her, far enough that the students would not easily overhear, close enough that the conversation could not be avoided.
"Miss Grindelwald," he said, voice low and even. "I was informed you would be observing. I was not informed you would be studying my students as though they were specimens."
Fila did not straighten or apologise. She simply turned her head slightly toward him.
"I'm observing the class, Professor. That includes the students. And the teaching."
Snape's dark eyes narrowed a fraction.
"And what conclusions has your… particular method of observation produced so far?"
"That precision matters more here than flair," she answered calmly. "That most of them are still learning how to listen to what the ingredients are doing instead of forcing the instructions."
A short silence followed. One of the first-years dropped a ladle; Snape did not even glance in that direction.
"a adequate observation, one I cant deny or agree to." Then he turned sharply right onto Harry and Ron who were about to drop a handful of dried leaves into their cauldron.
"ITS SAYS PINCH, not handful. Mr. Potter!" snape raised his voice and bolted of to their workstation. Once he arrived he grabbed the handful of leaves and force them to drop it back. "Are you planning to ruin everyones day in her too only because you lost your house points?" he asked while looking sternly at Ron and Harry.
Harry's ears went red. Ron muttered something under his breath that wisely did not reach Snape's ears. Around the room, every other first-year suddenly became extremely interested in measuring with exaggerated care.
Snape held the moment a second longer than necessary, then released it with a thin, contemptuous breath.
"One pinch. Evenly distributed. If either of you cannot count to three without assistance, I suggest you ask Miss Granger. She, at least, appears capable of reading."
Hermione kept her eyes firmly on her own cauldron, though the tips of her ears pinked.
Snape turned away and resumed his slow circuit as if the interruption had been nothing more than a minor correction. The temperature in the dungeon seemed to drop another degree.
That encounter had told her exactly what she needed to know about this professor.
He is strict, harsh and maybe a bit over the edge. But that's his method of teaching. Something that actually works really well. Make everyone think they do wrong all the time until they only make perfection.
Durmstrang uses it because they like screaming at students, but also because it has proven time and time again that this over the gentle teaching works better.
Fila herself started marching around the class, catching glimpses of everyone now a bit more careful.
The Slytherin girls and boys had this relaxed look on them in this classroom, most likely because their house master teacher it. and from what Fila had heard, he was extremely biased. Something she didn't believe in, from what she had seen sure he didn't deduct any points from the little snakes and plenty from Harry and Ron. They had become his point machine. Meaning he could take points to make his houses' points better.
But he only did when they actually did something wrong, or answered wrong. Harsh? Yes but who could say anything against it.
A blond girl caught Fila's attention when walking by the snakes.
She seemed more relaxed then the others, and when she closely inspected her she could see that she was almost done with her potion.
"What's your name?" Fila asked her.
The blonde girl looked up from her cauldron, mild surprise flickering across an otherwise composed face. Her posture remained relaxed, hands steady as she gave the potion one final slow stir. Up-close she was stunning, face, eyes, hair even her nose was beautiful.
"Daphne Greengrass," she answered evenly. "You're the exchange student. Grindelwald."
"Ophelia. Or Fila, if you prefer." Fila nodded toward the cauldron. "You're nearly finished. Most of the room is still fighting the second stage."
Daphne glanced at her work, then back at Fila with a small, measured shrug.
"I read the instructions twice before I started. It helps." A faint pause. "You're observing for Professor Snape?"
"For myself, mostly. He tolerates it."
A quiet huff of something that might have been amusement escaped Daphne.
She lowered her voice slightly. "You're not what the rumours described."
Fila raised an eyebrow, "Oh there are rumors already? What do they say?"
She paused, stirring once more. "Some of the more dramatic versions claim you can curse a person just by looking at them. Others say Dumbledore brought you here because the other schools found you too difficult to manage."
Fila almost smiled. "Creative. Partially accurate. The cursing-by-looking part is new. Hard to manage." She giggled a little at the last part.
"What's so funny?" she asked with a little giggle herself.
Fila waved her hand trying to stop herself. "No no nothing. Its just hard to see the schools struggling with me, its more like I keep them together." She stopped herself. "So Greengrass, how come you're so good at potions?" she asked
Daphne added the last of the ingredients and put her hourglass upside down, starting the time.
"With my family being part of the so called sacred 28, it's a thing my parents wanted me to be good at. So with plenty of private lessons and books from all over the world. Its become a habit." She said proudly.
The sacred 28, Fila had read a little about them. and as she had said in the past, they are full of shit. But the Greengrass family had been neutral, always.
Fila leaned a little against the edge of the next table, keeping her voice easy.
"Must have been a lot of weekends spent over a cauldron instead of doing anything fun."
Daphne let out a short, quiet laugh.
"You have no idea. My sister still teases me about the time I scorched my eyebrows off practising a simple boil-cure. I was nine."
"Nine? That's dedication. Or stubbornness."
"Both, according to my mother." Daphne checked the colour of her potion, then glanced sideways at Fila. "What about you? Did you actually like Potions growing up, or was it just one of those things you had to sit through?"
"I was terrible at it for years," Fila admitted. "I kept trying to free-hand everything. Turns out potions hate that. I only got better once someone forced me to follow the steps properly. Still not my favourite, but I don't blow up cauldrons anymore. Progress."
Daphne smiled properly this time, small but real.
"Low bar, but impressive."
"I'll take what I can get."
Around them the class kept working. Snape's quiet footsteps moved up and down the rows. Hermione's potion was already finished and perfect. Harry and Ron looked like they were trying very hard not to breathe wrong.
Daphne gave her cauldron one last slow stir.
"You're really just here to watch classes? No secret mission or anything?"
"Mostly just watching," Fila said. "Trying to see how Hogwarts does things differently. And the food's better than I expected."
"Give it two weeks. You'll be sick of roast beef like the rest of us."
"I'll risk it."
Daphne shook her head, still half-smiling, and turned back to her work as the hourglass ran out. The potion had come out clean.
"Nice talking to you," she said without looking up.
"You too."
Fila pushed away from the table and kept walking.
Not only did she finally talk with one of the snakes of this school, but she also noted a hole in the professor.
During that whole conversation he didn't try to interrupt or anything. Meaning two things, or could mean two things. One he didn't want to disturb the Greengrass family for whatever reason. Or maybe because she was a Slytherin.
After the potions class Fila followed the students to the next class.
Defense against the dark arts. Something she had looked forward to after hearing about a certain horrible professor.
The classroom sat higher in the castle than the dungeons, the air warmer and faintly dusty. First-years filed in with the same mix of nerves and curiosity they had carried into Potions, though the tension felt different here.
This time Gryffindor would have class with Ravenclaw.
And right away she could tell the difference. The eagles already had their books unpacked, opened and quills ready. While the lions lagged behind and some even tried to sleep a little. Except for Hermoine, she was the mirror of a Ravenclaw.
Fila remained near the door, waiting for the professor to appear.
He did not.
Minutes passed. Students began to whisper. A few looked toward the door as if expecting Quirrell to stumble in with his usual nervous energy and heavy scarf.
Instead, the door opened to admit Albus Dumbledore.
The whispers died at once.
Dumbledore closed the door gently behind him and regarded the class with his usual calm twinkle.
"Good morning. I am afraid Professor Quirrell is… unavailable today. A sudden matter requiring his attention." His gaze moved across the room and settled, with unmistakable purpose, on Fila. "Miss Grindelwald. A word, if you please."
Fila stepped closer, already sensing the direction this was about to take.
Dumbledore lowered his voice just enough that the students could not easily hear.
"I find myself in need of someone capable of keeping first-years occupied for the hour. Someone who understands practical magic and will not panic at the sight of a simple defensive charm. Would you be willing to take the class?"
Fila stared at him.
"You're asking me to teach."
"I am asking you to keep them from setting one another on fire for forty-five minutes," Dumbledore replied mildly. "A modest request."
"I'm fourteen."
"And already more experienced in applied defensive magic than most adults who have held this post in recent years." His eyes twinkled. "I will remain nearby should anything truly catastrophic occur. But I believe you will manage."
Fila opened her mouth, closed it again, then let out a short, disbelieving breath.
"You're serious."
"Entirely."
She looked past him at the rows of first-years watching the exchange with open curiosity. Harry's blue magic had perked up with interest. Hermione already looked as if she were preparing mental notes. Draco appeared torn between disdain and reluctant attention.
Fila turned back to Dumbledore.
"If any of them explode, I'm blaming you."
"I would expect nothing less."
Dumbledore stepped aside, clearly considering the matter settled, and moved to a chair near the back of the room as if he intended to become part of the furniture.
Fila faced the class.
For a moment the full weight of the situation settled over her.
Then she exhaled, pushed the shock aside, and clapped her hands once.
"All right. Listen carefully. We're not doing theory today. You're going to learn one useful thing and you're going to practise it until your arms hurt. If you complain, I'll make you practise longer."
A few nervous laughs. A few wider eyes.
Fila allowed herself the smallest of smiles.
"Wands out. And try not to hit each other unless I tell you to."
There was a brief scramble as first-years dug for their wands. A couple of them nearly dropped theirs. Fila waited until the noise settled, then walked slowly to the front of the room.
She waved her hand, and a dummy that had been sitting in the corner rolled out to the front of the class.
"Alright, lets see." She looked around the room and pointed to a girl from ravenclaw. "Tell me one spell I could use on this dummy, something that would hurt a little."
The Ravenclaw girl sat up straighter, clearly not expecting to be called on first.
"Um… Stinging Hex?" she offered. "Or the Disarming Charm, if you count that."
"Stinging Hex works." Fila turned to the dummy and gave a short, clean demonstration. A sharp red spark struck its chest with a clear snap. The dummy rocked but stayed upright. "See? Fast, direct, doesn't need a lot of power. Most of you can manage that."
She faced the class again.
"You're going to learn two things today. How to throw something simple, and how to stop it. Shield first. Protego. I don't care if it looks pretty. I care if it holds."
She demonstrated the shield once, the same faint shimmer as before, then let it drop.
"Pair up. One casts the Stinging Hex, the other shields. Then you switch. If your partner's shield fails and you actually sting them, you switch to practising the shield until the end of the lesson. Clear?"
A murmur of agreement. Students started shifting desks and finding partners. Hermione immediately claimed a Ravenclaw boy who looked like he took notes in his sleep. Harry ended up with Seamus again. Ron looked mildly betrayed.
Fila walked the room as they began.
Most of the first attempts were weak. Hexes fizzled. Shields either came too early or not at all. A few students put so much force into the hex that they nearly knocked their own wands out of their hands.
"Potter — later. You're still casting before you're ready. Wait for it."
Harry nodded, reset, and managed a cleaner shield on the next try.
"Granger — good form, but you're bracing like you expect a Bludger. Relax your shoulders."
Hermione adjusted at once.
Near the back, a Ravenclaw girl produced a surprisingly solid Protego on her first proper attempt. Fila gave her a short nod and kept moving.
The noise in the room settled into a workable rhythm — short hexes, the occasional yelp when a shield failed, quiet corrections. Dumbledore remained at the back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
After twenty minutes Fila called a stop.
"Good work," she clapped her hand twice. "Now you have done something that most do in the second grade." She pointed at the dummy again. "Next part. You're going to hit that. One at a time. Stinging Hex only. If I see anything else, you're done for the day."
They lined up with varying degrees of confidence. The first few attempts barely reached the dummy. Then Hermione stepped up and struck it cleanly in the chest. A couple of Ravenclaws managed the same. Harry's first try went wide; his second landed. Ron's bounced off the shoulder.
When the last student had gone, Fila dismissed the line.
"So tell me. How does it feel?" Fila asked and looked out over the group.
Some nodded, other gave a slight shrug. But no one looked disappointed with the things they had just done here.
"That's your homework. Practise both until you can do them without thinking. Next time someone throws something at you in a corridor, I don't want to hear that you froze."
The bell rang a minute later. Students packed up faster than usual, still talking about the lesson as they filed out. A few of the Ravenclaws looked thoughtful. Harry glanced back once, as if he might say something, then followed Ron and Hermione into the corridor.
When the room was empty, Fila turned to Dumbledore.
"Your very much like your grandfather." He said, but he seemed very cautious about saying it.
Fila smiled, "Ive heard that a couple of times now. Yet I still don't see how."
Albus gave a nod, "in more ways then you think." he went quiet. "tonight, come to the astronomy tower. There is something we need to overlook." He said in a weird voice.
"The detention?" Fila asked.
But Dumbledore had already started walking away from the classroom, leaving her alone.
Fila watched him go away, "Why do you always just go away, like for dramatic effect or what is it?" she asked but he didn't answer.
Getting no further reaction from him made her turn back and look at the classroom. The dummy still stood where she left it. desk still kind of a mess but that would be the professor hassle to deal with.
But teaching, had been fun. More then she thought. Getting to see them use the spell for the first time on something other than writing about it and visualizing it.