[ WP ] You 're teaching a class where one of the ten year olds threatens you with voodoo .

I sighed. 
 `` Mr. Boudreaux, this neither the time nor the place for your antics. 10 points from Ravenclaw,'' I scolded, looking down my glasses at the transfer student. 
 
 `` Professor, that ai n't fair! Ms. Henry dropped her wand and I was just tryna help her out!'' the boy protested in his thick Louisiana accent, indignation radiating off him. The young, blonde, eleven year old seated to his right blushed when he said her name. 
 
 I pushed my glasses up and fixed a stern gaze on him. Ever since an American wizard visiting London had captured the latest big Dark Wizard ( a former Ravenclaw whose appreciation for creative hexes got slightly out of hand when he slaughtered a sleepy village in Burgundy ), there had been a sustained effort to get more exchange students from the colonies. Most were perfectly fine students. The transfers from the Salem Academy were noted for their grace and skill in duels. The Detroit Warlock Institute was less respectable, but their students got along well with others. The students from the New Orleans Academy of Wizardry, Witchcraft, and Alternate Magicks were notorious though. The transfers were precocious, ambitious, and more than a little ruthless. They were also trained from a young age in types of magic not practiced anywhere else. These proclivities included blood magic, ritualistic sacrificial magic, and Voodoo. These magics held strong negative connotations as being dark, or at least distasteful among the more civilized wizards at Hogwarts, but captured the imagination of the more... morally loose. 
 
 The unique culture of the southern colonies led to an even more unique upbringings for these young wizards and witches. The simplest way to tell one of these wizards from the rest was by the large knives they typically carried strapped to their side to aide them in preparing sacrifices or performing ritualistic voodoo. A knife much like the one whose pommel Allen Boudreaux was now stroking, a dark glint in his eyes. 
 
 `` Boudreaux, I recommend you leave that knife in its sheathe. You are ten. I am the dueling coach at the most prestigious Wizarding school in the world. I could melt the skin from your bones in a matter of seconds,'' I threatened, trying for lazily confident, hitting arrogantly overbearing instead. As long as I hid the pang of nerves in my stomach, arrogance was okay. Boudreaux seriously gave me the creeps. 
 
 The other kids from the NOAWWAM gave him a wide berth. A Slytherin had tried to put him in a full body bind earlier in the year ( a favorite pasttime of second and third years towards first years ) and the young Slytherin wound up in the infirmary for months. Boudreaux's repertoire of destructive and offensive spells was far too high for a student who should still be struggling to shoot different coloured sparks. Normally, I'd be all over him to duel for Hogwarts ( our pre-teen squad lost to Durmstrang's last year in international play ), but again, the kid truly gives me the creeps. 
 
 He squinted at me. He opened his mouth to speak, and Ms. Henry, a cute Ravenclaw with no precision in wand movement, put a hand on his arm and lightly squeezed. He glanced at her and relaxed, his shoulders falling, and brow unfurling. I breathed a sigh of relief on the inside and turned back to the board to watch the chalk write for me. 
 
 `` Expelliarmus,'' I said slowly, sounding out each syllable. `` It's a simple disarming spell, but one that has helped out many wizards in a jam. A wandless wizard is one whose power has no outlet. Very few wizards are capable of magic without their wand to direct magic, so this is the first spell in many duelists, aurors, and mages repertoire.'' 
 
 I turned to the class as I heard a young voice shout the spell. My wand, held loosely in my hand went flying. The chalk fell to the ground and broke. Boudreaux smiled as he caught my wand in his hand. His eyes, so brown they looked black, flashed at me. Some of the class laughed, others looked concerned, worried about what was about to happen. Whether they were concerned about me or their classmate, I do not know. 
 
 `` Boudreaux,'' I said in the calmest tone I could muster, `` that was highly inappropriate.'' I privately marveled at his ability to perform the spell after hearing it once and without any notes on the best wand patterns to focus it. 
 
 `` I was just practicin', Professor Redman,'' the boy replied, the `` G's'' as absent from his casual style of speech as ever. One would think that would have an effect on his spellcasting, but the child was a prodigy. 
 
 `` Well, you obviously have the hang of it,'' I replied, `` Now hand me my wand.'' I reached out my hand. He extended his hand as well, but just as I touched my wand, he dropped it. It clattered against the floor. Ten inches, hippogriff feather core. I felt the blood rush to my face. The little bastard smiled slowly, exposing his small teeth. My class laughed, as I slowly bent over to pick up my wand. 
 
 `` Oh, whoops, sorry, Professor,'' he extended his apology with wide, innocent eyes and his best shot at good nature. `` Guess you ai n't as fast as I thought,'specially for such a famous duelist.'' 
 
 His comment rankled me. I was offered my post at Hogwarts after being defeated by the new world champion duelist in an tournament seven years ago. The new champion, a deceptively quick witch from Mahoutokoro got the drop on me by sneaking a body bind hex on me before I could cast a protective charm. There's no more humiliating to lose a bout than on your face. 
 
 `` I may not be as fast as in my youth, but I am still one of the world's premiere duelists.'' Pride dripped into my voice. 
 
 `` Ever heard of voodoo, Professor?'' Boudreaux asked casually. 
 
 `` Of course.'' I nodded slowly, interested despite myself. 
 
 `` Well, my pappy always told me the most important thing to remember about voodoo is preparation. See, the magic is done way before you actually do anything with it.'' His lips pursed as if trying to remember. `` You have to collect some kinda DNA, make a doll, perform the spell.'' his voice dropped so low I had to lean in to hear him. Our eyes were locked together as the background seemed far away. 
 
 `` After that, it do n't matter when you do it. I could get some of your hair today to break your back on your eightieth birthday. I could slit your throat a thousand miles away.'' I could n't control the goosebumps spreading down my arms. The kid's voice was eerily deep and his confidence was terrifying. 
 
 `` Well, thank you for the lesson, but you've wasted enough class today,'' I declared with confidence I did not feel. `` 200 points from Ravenclaw for the disruption.'' He bit back a remark and sat down with the urging of Ms. Henry. He slouched in his chair, arms crossed, for the remainder of class. I did not hold them for much longer. My back was covered in sweat and I wanted to go wash off. 
 
 After class, he came up to me. I glanced up at him as I packed my stuff. 
 
 `` Yes, Boudreaux?'' I asked professionally. 
 
 `` I just wanted to apologize for my behavior today, professor,'' the young boy said with sincerity that failed to reach his inexpressive eyes. 
 
 `` Quite all right. I understand our schools are differently structured than in the States,'' I offered. Boudreaux smiled. He turned to walk away, but knocked a paperweight off my desk in his haste. We both bent to pick it up with our heads colliding. As we started away from each other his hand darted into my hair where his head had collided with mine. 
 
 `` Are you okay, Professor?'' he asked, with what sounded like genuine concern, `` I did n't mean to cause you no harm.'' 
 
 `` Fine, Boudreaux, be on your way.'' I picked up my bag and walked out the room, determined to get a shower and get several drinks. I wound up meeting several other professors at Faust's, a dive bar off the beaten path in Hogsmeade. After imbibing more than my fair share of a variety of brews, I stumbled home. I removed my hat, and shrugged out of my robes. I fell into bed, deciding the I would clean my teeth in the morning with a spell. 
 
 Pain. I screamed. Searing pain through my stomach. My hands flew to my stomach looking for a wound, but found nothing. My heart raced as the pain did not relent, but built upon itself. Every movement made me explode in new types of agony. I screamed as the same sensation began in my shoulder. 
 
 In the girls' dormitory of Ravenclaw, a young, blonde girl was bent over her desk with a needle in one hand, a small doll in the other. 
 
 A voice came from behind her, `` Good job, Clara. Now stick the needle in its heart.'' The young girl did. A grin spread on Boudreaux's face as the girl turned and looked at him. 
 
 She put down the doll, now with a needle sticking through the heart, and the pair joined hands. Boudreaux looked at a hair in his free hand. Short and dark. 
 
 `` You never did like herbology, much did you, Clara?''
