Daughter of a Malfoy Chapter 5.2

As soon as classes started on Monday, it became very clear to all fifth-years just how awful this year was going to be, and it was just as bad as we had anticipated. Every single one of the professors assigned an entire chapter of reading from their prospective textbooks and then told us that we would be quizzed on the readings next time we had class! The worst part was that none of the professors looked sympathetic at all! Not even Uncle Albus, who until now almost never assigned homework!

The only hint of an upside to this proverbial slap in the face was that most of the quizzes were going to be open-notes, with the exception of Herbology, though Professor Break had strongly advised us to take notes on the reading anyway, to get the information in our heads. But this did very little to lighten our spirits, because taking notes added time to what already looked to be hours of homework each night.

But what terrified me the most were the thoughts whirling around in my head about what Music classes would be like from now on. According to my schedule, I had two class periods devoted to Music: Intermediate Orchestra and Ordinary Wizarding Level Music Theory. On Wednesday, Dad conducted Orchestra just as he always had: we warmed up with some scales, then he handed out music and we tried to sight read it. He refused to answer any questions about O.W.L.s; he only told us that fifth-years would have to wait until Friday’s Music Theory class.

So, it was with much anxiety that I walked into the Choir room after breakfast on Friday.

I was mildly surprised upon my arrival to be met with not only Orchestra students, but also students from the other Music classes. I kind of knew all of them from my other classes, but it felt a bit uncomfortable to think of learning about Music with them. For the most part, the Music classes did not interact with one another, and it was visually evident by the fact that students sat near classmates from their Music classes. I followed the general arrangement and sat with my Orchestra classmates.

When class started, Dad dragged a stool over from the corner and sat in front of everyone. “First of all,” he said, quieting us, “I welcome you to the first ever Music Theory class at Hogwarts. Second, I apologize for the short notice in regards to having to take O.W.L. exams for Music.

“Now, I’d like to explain to you all why you all have this extra class on your schedule.” Dad adjusted himself on the stool and sat up a bit straighter. “As you all should already know, each of the O.W.L. exams you will take this year has both a practical and a written portion to the exam. The same goes for Music classes.

“Your practical exams will each take place according to the Music class or classes that you are taking this year. If you are in multiple Music classes, you will have as many practical exams as you have classes. This means that if you are in Choir and Band and Orchestra and Piano,” he looked specifically to Lowell Scamander, “you will have to take a practical for each class, which is a total of four practical exams.”

Lowell simply shrugged as if he had expected this. But the rest of the class groaned in response to the terrible news because most of us were indeed taking more than one Music class— I was one of the few exceptions, aside from various students who were only General Choir or Guitar.

“There is one exception to this rule,” Dad called over us. “I have clarified with the people who are overseeing the O.W.L. exams that students who are in more than one Choir class— meaning you are taking General Choir and Men’s or Women’s Choir— you will only have to prepare for one Choir practical.”

There was a huge sigh of relief from the group of Choir students sitting off to the side of the room. I somewhat sympathized with them in thinking that it would have been very hard on them to prepare for what were essentially multiple exams for the same instrument.

Far from unconcerned, however, was Dana Tate, one of the violists from Orchestra. For the first time ever, she raised her hand and spoke when Dad acknowledged her. “P-professor,” she almost whispered, “What… what will we… have to do for the… practical…?”

Dad smiled encouragingly at her, as fully aware as those of us in Orchestra that these were the first words she had spoken in front of us in what felt like years. “I’ve been informed by the exam writers that the practical exam for each class will have the same format, and is entirely individual. From that, it’s more likely than not that the exams will be run like auditions, with a prepared piece and some sight reading, and maybe some scales and arpeggios for the instrumentalists, but that is all I know.

“Now, about the written exam—”

“That’s what this class is for,” interrupted a Piano student, “isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Dad affirmed. “There will be one written exam that will test your knowledge of Music Theory. Because it is such a complicated subject, Headmaster Longbottom has agreed to schedule an extra class for you, without taking time away from ensemble rehearsals and without your fourth-year classmates.”

Someone else in the Piano cluster asked, “Is there one for N.E.W.T.s too?”

He nodded. “There is a Theory class for seventh-years. They’ll be using the same textbook as you are, but they will cover the entire book this year; you, as O.W.L. students, only need to learn the first twenty chapters or so.”

“Hang on,” Delacrois called out as he raised his hand. “How many chapters are there in the textbook, if we’re only doing twenty?”

Dad took the opportunity to distribute the textbooks with the flick of his wand. As he answered the question, one of the three-inch-thick books landed painfully in my lap. “I believe there are forty-three chapters in the textbook, which is just enough for my N.E.W.T. students to be required to read at least two chapter per week, possibly three. You, on the other hand, will be reading one chapter each week.

“And I really do expect you to do these readings on your own time, in addition to any additional assignments I give you; otherwise you should expect to find that you do not understand a word of what I tell you here in class. I also strongly urge all of you to study this together, or even with the N.E.W.T. students.” He sighed apologetically. “Based on the curriculum outlined for me, this could easily become the most difficult class you take this year.”


***


Dad’s words had frightened me. How was I supposed to read an entire chapter each week? I was already cramming pages upon pages of learning into my head from my other classes, and now I had to add an entirely new subject to the mix? It was too unfair.

The only comfort I felt was that I wasn’t the only one suffering; there were about thirty of us in the Music Theory class, and I estimated about twenty-five more in the N.E.W.T. class. But this was a bitter view to take, and I pitied myself for thinking this way.

But it seemed that my worries had been for nothing, because when I opened to the first chapter I discovered that it was about learning to read notes on a staff. During the actual class period, we were drilled on ear training and sight reading, but for the most part everything was so basic that I almost laughed. And this continued in the following weeks, with chapters that explained time and key signatures, rhythm, and scales. Most of my class decided that if anyone did not already know about this stuff by now, they should drop out of the Music program altogether.

Sadly, some of my classmates actually did leave, and mostly from the Percussion and Guitar classes, because they had not previously needed to learn notes on a staff. Seeing the majority of the class joke about how easy the content was made them feel inadequate, and about a month into the year our number had shrunk to less than twenty. It surprised all of us when this was brought to our attention in late November by the only remaining Percussion student in the class: Dylan Hayes.

He walked into the classroom— late, as usual, with his shirt untucked and his Gryffindor tie undone— and walked to his chair but did not sit down.  He turned to the class and announced, “Patrick told me to tell you he’s done. Says he’s got enough on his plate without having to worry about Music. So that leaves me from Percussion, I guess.” Then he sat down.

Everyone looked around the room, still divided into groups by Music class. It was unfair for things to be like this. We barely knew each other’s names because we were all in our own little bubbles every class period.

“This is stupid,” Cassie stated bluntly, standing up. “Let’s join him, Will.” She and Delacrois dragged their chairs over to sit by Hayes, followed by Megan Cresswell and a few other Gryffindors, and then by Tina and some of the Band students. I brought my chair over too, with a few of my Orchestra classmates. Before we knew it, the entire class was a blob of chairs at one side of the room, and everyone was talking to each other.

Dad applauded us, surprising everyone because nobody had noticed his entrance. “This is fantastic! Congratulations on finally breaking the House and class barriers! I think this warrants a break from ear training, for a nice icebreaker, don’t you think? Give you all a chance to get to know each other properly before the storm hits?”

Of course, we all jumped on the idea at the mention of taking a break from boring dictation and interval identification, and took no notice of the end of Dad’s little speech. Sure I heard it, but I did not care; everything had been so easy up until this point, so how could things suddenly become difficult just like that? The answer was simply that it could not, and so I gladly participated in the lighthearted icebreaker activities of the day without another thought.