[Dart Arts] Lesson I

[Mafelda Hundar]

The Dark Arts classroom door ices over as Mafelda unlocks it. Were she another witch, she might smile slightly at the intricate spellwork it took her to complete the lock, but not the Mafelda. Never Mafelda. She gently presses against the door and it swings open with a cold hush.
The room itself is definitely out of place in Hogwarts. Where most classrooms have bright cheery windows and brilliant lighting, this classroom has black velvet curtains drawn, with silver cords and tassels hanging at the wayside. It's still a very well lit room, but that's because of the gigantic, vibrant chandelier overhead, covered with a thousand black candles, giving off a deceivingly gentle glow. There are also large candelabras around the edge of the room, just to make sure there's enough light for the students to work by.
Instead of the regular wooden desks and chairs, Mafelda has brought in large, ivory work desks--the likes of which you might see in a secretarial office of the ministry—and large, padded, black upholstered, antique armchairs.
Together, creating a beautifully dark setting.

Her glance sweeps over the room, almost cheerily—as cheerily as Miss Hundar ever gets anyways (which is still not cheery at all)—and she moves to her own matching chair and desk at the front of the room. Behind her, two picture frames hang on either side of the blackboard, with silver linen secreting their occupants. "Be nice, now, fellows," she says over her shoulder, "We don't want to scare them off just yet… it's only the first class.

She pulls out a drawer in her desk and lifts a piece of parchment out; the list of students on roll for her class, hand selected by herself. This was going to be quite enjoyable for them… if they let it be. And if they didn't… well, Miss Hundar would be only too glad to help adjust their attitudes. Her cold gaze flickered to the bottom of the sheet where one extra name had been written in:
Apprentice: Erys Grace
Her ever-telling smirk gave away what vicious thoughts were spinning through her head. 'Grace. I wonder if it runs in the family…' a small cough, that could nearly be mistaken for a laugh, escaped her pale lips as she dropped the paper back into the desk drawer. 'Five students, plus Grace and myself; perfect number. Proper desks and chairs and lighting; perfect setting. The one subject no one should have dared to let me teach; all fit together for the perfect class.'

A smile breaks her stony features, but only for a moment. It is at that exact point that the door whispers open, signaling the entrance of her first student. She whipped her icy blue gaze to lock with theirs, a sneer curling over her face. "Welcome," she forces the greeting out. "Take a seat."
She then pulls out her wand, the long instrument almost glowing in the candle light. She places her thumb and forefinger in the middle of it and sets it on her desk, then snaps. The wand begins spinning like mad, a low hum filling the room. Mafelda nods her approval, then leans back in her chair and closes her eyes until the full class arrives.

[Erys Grace]

Not one to dawdle on her way to a lesson she actually enjoyed--be it as it may she was an apprentice to this one, but we'd all get to that later--Erys Grace strode smoothly through the dungeons, often getting leaped out at by younger Slytherin's trying to impress their friends or land a good scare. She wasn't one to startle easily, and if it weren't for her devotion to her house she probably would have popped them each a black eye. But no, just the sight of her standing there and a hard, questioning look in her eye sent them stumbling away, apology written all over their faces. Smirking briefly as she turned gracefully and walked away Erys mentally checked a rough estimate of the time in her head. She should be early, as Apprentices should be, and as she stepped through the entranceway she caught the sneer of Professor Hundar. "Nice to see you too, Professor." Erys replied evenly with a hint of a grin, but there was no disrespect to it. Moving forward to take a seat near her she rolled her shoulders back, waiting for the students to arrive with a calm expression on her face.

She had been previously informed as to what the topic of this lesson would be, as to not be a bother while bustling around the classroom and hopefully not getting in the way. It was sure to be interesting, would it not? Small class list though. Couldn't say she didn't mind, at least there were some Slytherins who decided to take it. In her eyes the whole list should have been Snakes, why would a Hufflepuff want to learn the Dark Arts? Doesn't that defy their very nature? Bah.[/color]

[Jason Walker]

Now this was the class Jason was looking forward to most. As he walked to the classroom, he couldn't help but think of all the wonderful topics they were going to cover. Excellent.. Upon reaching the correct doorway, the boy reached out and felt the after chill of the spelled lock that had been casted on the knob. Superb spellwork.. He thought as he stepped through the door and into the extravagantly dark setting.

A small smirk appeared on his chiseled features once locking eyes with the creator of the beautiful setting. "Afternoon, Miss Hundar." Jason replied while bowing his head in respect. Of course one would be foolish to not respect such a powerful witch such as herself, and Jason indeed, knew his place in the food chain.

Picking a seat that wasn't too far from her own, but not too close, the Slytherin chose the middle seat in the first row. With the flick of his wand that was readied in his right hand, an ink bottle and fine quill appeared on his desk. Jason managed to almost always maintain an emotionless expression on his features, but was easily betrayed by the small twinkle in his eyes. A twinkle that many Slytherins and Professors knew well, and perhaps even bore as well. Sure enough, Mafelda could easily identify and just maybe relate to.

Soon enough he set his wand down upon the ivory surface and relaxed a bit in the plush armchair. The boy folded his arms across his wide chest and let his eyes flick around the room, taking in any detail that had been gone previously unnoticed. Even if the room was eerily silent, Jason didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Who would with such comfy chairs! At the sound of another student entering the room, he tilted his head lazily to see who had come in.[/color]

[Via Thorn]

It only made sense to Via that if you were going to study defence against the dark arts that you learnt about the dark arts itself to ready you moreso against what you were fighting. Dark arts was a great way to achieve a more heightened sense of understanding in both subjects, and to Via, Dark Arts was like the counter curse to a hex. It only made sense to thoroughly and knowingly protect yourself.

However, she never thought being a Hufflepuff that she would of been accepted into the class. Hufflepuffs to be truthful were seen as the leftovers, the ones who were not really much of anything, and never amounted up to much. The cast offs, the leftovers, the losers and the insignificant ones. Via knew different. Hufflepuffs were great in their own way, maybe not as obvious as with the traits of the other houses, but still great in their own right. Via was not anywhere near a popular student, nor was she popular or well known in her own house, but she was an extremely hard worker, even if she was quiet and withdrawn.

Stepping into the class, clutching onto her books, she peered round to see the room already held two slytherins and of course Miss Hundar. Via had been told many things about Mafelda Hundar, all sides saying something completely different. Via found her an intruiging woman, and although her cheery ways were probably not going to be welcomed into a room so beautifully dark, she gave Professor Hundar a smile anyway.
"Hello Professor" she said before looking at both Jason and Erys and nodding at them before closing the door back on herself. Walking silently to a seat to the side of the room nearer to Jason than to Erys, she set her books down on the desk, placing her hands on top of them.

It was obvious from the surrounding that the room had a beautiful eeriness to it, one set perfectly by Miss Hundar is what Via guessed. She could not imagine her being one for fluffy things and rainbows, so the room somehow matched the woman's features and personality perfectly. So far, Via seemed to be the only one mismatching the scenery, and this thought caused her tall frame to sink slightly into the puffy chair.

[Noah Yves]

Noah had come to a conclusion long ago, with the help of his friendship with Narcissus, that being a Gryffindor didn't define who you were. In all honestly, it was the character that defined the house, wasn't it?

He had long since shed all Gryffindor-esque expectations of him, and admitted to his gaping dorm-mates that the Dark Arts was something he found interesting - and No, he wasn't planning to resurrect any evil deatheaters any time soon. It was an enthralling subject, and he knew that given the chance to think about it, the rest of his house would agree.

However, Noah had sent his screeching owl to Hundar expecting to be turned down and perhaps that expectation was what spurred him to be brave enough to enroll in the first place. But, soon enough, appearing on his schedule sheet with the kind of grace no written word should have managed, was the controversial subject: Dark Arts.

Though he'd shrugged off his dorm-mates playful remarks about him becoming a Slytherin, Noah did find himself intimidated when he entered the room. He heard Mafelda's excruciatingly cold welcome and cringed, before squeezing through the door and settling in one of the last few seats remaining.

"Narcissus better not be late for this one," he murmured, sending an appraising glance to the professor, while at the same time avoiding her eye. "I bet this is what his Common Room looks like." The thought made Noah's lips curl in the slightest half smile as he flickered his quill through his fingers.

[Narcissus Drachen]

Five sumptuous winged chairs tailored in arousing black velvet were the focus of the room, each of them broad and domineering with their wings threatening to embrace their guests. The walls and windows were washed in a pitch black that absorbed the chilling candlelight infinitely, and he couldn’t help but muse how beautiful each bare arm and pale cheek looked in Professor Hundar’s favourable choice of lighting. They sat together in a semi-circle, prisoners behind their bone tables and completely isolated under Her intimate, disarming gaze. Narcissus realised, with an exquisite queasiness, that Erys was the only fake thing in the room.

Noah leaned round just enough to greet Narcissus, and he gravitated toward his accomplice eagerly. “I’m going to be sick.” He whispered, passing behind Noah’s chair and slipping into his own. The grim wings obstructed any view of the other Chosen. He looked at Professor Hundar, her long dark nails already tapping at his thoughts. “Teach me something I wish I'd never knew.” He mouthed weakly.

Black wax dripped onto the back of his hand, hot and creamy. It was the only warmth in a thousand miles of this room.

[Coeus Linde]

The school is hauntingly quiet as Coeus makes his way to Dark Arts. The stories he's heard about the new Professor might scare many people, but Coeus is simply intrigued. Such a mysterious, dark woman is going to be a fascinating subject to observe over the next semester.

As he reaches the door, a distinct chill bites at his skin. After a second glance he sees that the door is covered in a thin, stinging layer of ice. "Curious..." he says, crouching down to inspect the door. Knob, hinges, everything is frosty. He stands up and nudges the door open with his shoulder to keep from getting frost bite.

Once inside, he realizes that the door is not the only icy thing about this class. The professor herself looks rather like an ice sculpture up at the front of the classroom, leaning back in her chair, not recognizing that anyone is entering the room. He squints at her, captivated by her aloof stature towards the class.

Finally remembering that he is here for a lesson, Coeus makes his way to the last available desk in the room, coincidentally next to a rather familiar looking Hufflepuff girl. He smiles at Via, but dares not speak. Something about this class seems too solemn to break the spell with speech.

[Mafelda Hundar]

As soon as the last student enters the classroom, Mafelda's wand stops singing and lays still on her desk. She opens her eyes and looks at the class, her piercing gaze matching each of her five's with deathly precision. "Pleased you could make it," she says, though her expression is as emotionless as ever. A single dark eyebrow raises as she takes in her full class in the flesh. "Not quite what I expected," she admits scornfully, "But we'll see what you're made of soon enough."

She pushes herself away from her desk and stands up, grabbing her wand and sheathing it at her hip. She walks around to the front of her desk and leans back on it, "Now then, you each have your own various reasons for being here. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't care less why you think you're here, because the fact of the matter is you're here to learn, and you're here to learn from me. I only hope you don't end up regretting that choice."

She walks back around her desk to the blackboard. "I am Mafelda Hundar," she rights the name upon the board in glowing blue chalk. "You may call me Miss Hundar, or Professor," her handwriting alters itself to display the titles. "I do not tolerate childishness-" she turn around to face her class again, "That's part of why your younger classmates are not welcome here. I expect you five to be able to carry yourselves with more decorum," her eyes narrow dangerously. "Don't disappoint me."

"Another reason the children in this castle are not allowed to participate in this class is because, despite the purely theory based lessons, you will learn many dangerous things in this class," her eyes fall to the floor as a cold curl wraps itself around one corner of her mouth. "Very dangerous things indeed... and I do not expect that younger witches and wizards would be able to keep their curiousity under control in the wake of my class." After a deep, cleansing breath, Mafelda's demeanor reverts back to its previous stoicism.

"Before we continue, I'm going to need to understand what you think you know about the Dark Arts." Her focus rests momentarily on each of her students again as they shift in their seats--some to lean in and get closer, to gather as much information as they can; others merely moving about, trying to figure out how to react to their new professor. "In an orderly fashion, I'd like you each to tell me what you think Dark Arts insinuate."

[Via Thorn]

Via felt the penetrating eyes of Miss Hundar scan the room and land on her. The woman was powerful and Via could tell everybody felt so too. Via could imagine her wrath being evasive and like an oblivion all of its own. She knew not to get on the wrong side of the professor, and sure didn’t particularly want to either. Sitting up straight once again as the wand stopped whirring, Via looked at it emitting a tune until it finally cut short, making her eyes flick back up to the Professor. A lump slid down her throat as she saw Coeus from the corner of her eye, yet dared not look at him to smile, instead smiling sideways hoping he caught it. Not taking her eyes off the woman, she was threateningly beautiful and powerful, all the makings of a Slytherin. That’s what Via had guessed anyway, but she was no seer.

As Miss Hundar began writing her name on the blackboard, Via watched in anticipation, ears open and ready to soak up every word she said. The room was hauntingly dark as the candles flickered slightly causing a mysterious glow to play upon the walls like a mime theatre of shadows. Of course Via knew the dangerousness of the lesson, whether theory based or not as the knowledge of such things could send someone into a powertrip. Via knew she would not, she was here merely to securely protect herself against what she was learning about. She bet if anyone in the class was to go crazy with power it would be the apprentice sitting smugly in the corner and the thought of Erys cackling wildly in one of the corridors with her perfect dark hair fuzzing around her head made her laugh inwardly.

As the professor spoke once again, narrowing her eyes and setting them for a few seconds on each student, mentally testing them, Via kept eye contact determined not to break it. If she gave in, it gave the Professor ammunition to think of her as weak and being a Hufflepuff, Via bet it was already on the borderline. Raising her hand, willing to prove her worth, she waited a few moments before she spoke, letting her hand fall back down gracefully.

“Miss Hundar, I know many things are affected by dark magic, or dark arts and there is much dark magic that people will come across in their lives, whether it be life threatening or not” she said before she paused for a moment.
“As a former Defence against the dark arts student, there is only a minimal amount of information we can gather from that side of things, but coming at it from a different angle using Dark arts is sure to go into more depth about defense and knowledge of the arts itself. Basically, this class will secure your knowledge of the dark arts, whichever way you choose to use the information you are given”

[Jason Walker]

Caught in thought when the teacher had asked what the Dark Arts insinuates to each one of them, Jason was quickly jerked out of the pleasantries of his mind only to be met by a grueling noise. Staying silent while Via presented her aspect, the boy couldn't help but hear that over-whelming noise in the background. What is it.. Jason swept his hazel eyes over the room twice, searching for the origin of the painful sound.

Finally, picking it out, the Slytherins eyes landed on Erys. That must be it.. Jason soon came to realize that the horrid sound that was assaulting his ears was her breathing. Wouldn't be the first time. I suppose having such an extreme under bite will do that to you..

In attempts to ignore her soft 'hiss' of her breathing, Jason decided that talking instead of thinking would do him justice. A moment after Via finished her views on the Dark Arts, the boy didn't hesitate to speak up. After all, Mafelda wanted the class to go smoothly and orderly, just what he would deliver.

"I believe that the Dark Arts insinuate power. Usually cast with malicious or evil intent, this isn't always the case. I do find connection between the curses cast and the witch or wizard who casts them. Motivation plays a key in the Dark Arts.The Arts themselves stem from the worst impulses in human nature, for example, a sadist would be proficient in the Cruciatus Curse, which involves torturing a victim and enjoying the sight of their victim in pain. Also, I do believe that the Dark Arts, whether in theory or otherwise, are a set of methods for pursuing genuine self-knowledge and mental emancipation." Taking a brief moment to breath, Jason was satisfied and continued.

"Dark magic would usually be invoked to kill, injure, to cause misfortune or destruction, or for personal gain without regard to harmful consequences to others." After his last words faded, he returned to lounging back into the plush armchair. Whether that was what Mafelda wanted as an answer or not, that's what he had to give.

Of course, just as he settled in to the chair, that annoying hiss came about the room. Jason soon wondered if it was just him who heard the noise, or anyone else. His hazel eyes flickered over anyone to see if they had noticed it at all, but couldn't tell with all the stoic expressions due to Mafelda's intimidation. With a shrug, Jason simply wrote it off as 'that annoying hiss that won't go away' and returned his eyes to the Professor, waiting for the next person to speak.[/color]

[Narcissus Drachen]

There was a deliberating silence after Jason finished, the room weighing his thoughts against Via’s.

“I think Dark magic is about desire....” Narcissus interjected, his eyes wandering to Coeus’s feet. “Or perhaps more accurately, frustration. There is a core to why people feel the need to inflict pain – perhaps it’s to release our own?” His voice was pitched with uncertainty, as if he had not thought about this before. "When we don't get what we want by being saints, we're driven to be a little more... resourceful."

A reluctantly smile curled against his lip and he looked back up at Professor Hundar, eyes like dead suns in a distant galaxy. He was feeling excitable now. “The Dark Arts exposes so many vices in human nature – surly one of them is to fulfil our heart’s desire? Morality asks you jump through so many hoops." He leaned forward now, grinning at Via curiously. “Perhaps the Imperius Curse was invented by a jilted lover? He enslaved her for her own good, I’m sure.”

[Noah Yves]

"All magic stems from desire," Noah contradicted his friend, his eyes somehow darker than usual. There was a competitiveness between them that only surfaced in the rare moments they became serious, and it was also then that their differences became strikingly visible.

Taking into consideration the opinions of his classmates, Noah pulled his seat forward with a dull screech to get closer to something he couldn't see. "What makes the Dark Arts unique is it can make an individual feel more important than they actually are." He exhaled hot air, breathing in frost to replace it. "You can inflict pain with magic of any kind, but to perform the Dark Arts you must carry insatiable malice. Suddenly, with the aid of the Crutacious Curse, an insignificant wizard has purpose in his spite. He feeds on it, and eventually the Dark Magic consumes him, it becomes him. No longer is it his tool, but his life line."

Noah paused, growing suddenly confused with his own answers. Leaning back, releasing the pressure on his limbs, he turned to Narcissus questioningly and realised with curious displeasure that for Hundar's class, they would not copy each other's essays as was usually done.

[Coeus Linde]

Listening to his classmates responses to the question, Coeus contemplates what he associates with Dark Arts. He's glad that all of his classmates have such well thought out answers to give him time to decide how exactly he wants to phrase his response, and to give him a good idea of what other aspects the Dark Arts might contain. When Noah finishes his thoughts, Coeus makes his move to pipe in.

"The Dark Arts," he begins, "are really just a balance for magic itself." His face turns a bit red under the excrutiating stare of Miss Hundar. "Um... that is to say, that since there is light, or, um... I guess "good" magic everywhere, so obviously, there must be something to even out the scales." He takes a deep breath to regain his composure before continuing. "I suppose in a way, I don't really see either form of magic as particularly good or evil though. I think they coincide to a great extent. There are aspects of "Light" magic that I see as being evil; people become self-righteous and holier-than-thou because they don't use the Dark Arts, but they use non-dark magic in just as spiteful and base ways to get what they want. At least Dark Arts masters have the guts to pull the trigger themselves, show people their true colors no matter what the cost. And I've seen Dark Wizards use, supposedly, "evil" magic to help others," he pauses and looks to his right and his left, realizing that he may have said too much. "Anyways, I guess my point is, it's not neccesarily bad or good based on the spell or what it's called... it's how a person uses the information marks it."

He shrugs and leans back in his chair as he waits for the teacher to continue... but then looks curiously to the girl sitting just next to the Professor's desk. 'I wonder what her view is...' he thinks, staring at the older Slytherin girl. She seems very quiet, but from the stories he's heard about the Grace girl, she's far from it. 'So why isn't she talking?' his inquiry stabs at the front of his mind. 'Maybe she was just waiting for the students to finish before saying her part; to not influence us or something.' He shrugs again and waits to see what's said next.

[Erys Grace]

After the students finished speaking she'd put her opinion forth, while nodding along to what they had to say. "I think a lot of what you all have said plays a key role in what we call the 'Dark Arts'." She began, continuing with, "In my opinion this question stems back to that one topic of so many discussions in the past.. What is evil, really? Can it be categorized into one specific grouping of spells and acts, or does it rely more on opinion? Everyone has their own pre-conceived notion of what good or bad is. You get tripped purposely by someone, and you think they're a bad person, when the truth may be that they were raised to inflict pain on others by the pressure put on them by the ill acts of their parents. So sure, they may be mean, but they were groomed to be that way beyond their control by other people who were probably groomed to do so as well. So isn't that act alone, the people who started it, the true evil in this case? Everyone else has either been mistakenly taught to do so, or does it by pure choice alone. Monsters aren't born, they are created, but everything is based on choice, and opinions." Taking an inhale of breath, she added one last touch. "Some witches and wizards of this world believe that they are doing good and whoever opposes them are evil, while the other witches and wizards believe they are the good ones and whoever opposes them is evil. Again, its all a matter of opinions." She finished smoothly, adding, "Though I could be wrong, its what I've seemed to notice."

Resting her linked hands on the table she felt her wand shift out her pocket, and her hand was a blur as it shot down to catch it before it hit the ground. Retrieving it and storing it back in her pocket again the Slytherin went on, unaffected by how quick the motion was, as it was pretty much the norm with her.[/color]

[Mafelda Hundar]

Mafelda listens patiently, an unusually calm and almost pleasant expression on her face; her students, though young and mostly inexperienced, do indeed have their own personal opinion about the dark arts, and knowing one's own opinion is more important than gaining self-recognition. Miss Hundar nods her approval, "I am quite glad to see that you all aren't naive little twits, just wanting to be tough by taking my class," though though the emotion of the statement doesn't show through in her expression, nor her voice. "It's rare that anyone is actually mature enough to realize that there is more to dark magic than simply torturing people."

"Before we continue," she interjects, "I need you all to understand that I don't care about your school." She watches the class, just waiting to see how they'll all react to this statement. She knows from her previous experiences here that the children all have a ridiculous amount of school pride. "I do not care about your houses; whether you have a badger on your robes or a snake tattooed to your forehead makes no difference to me. I did not go to this school as a child, and frankly, I think it's stupid. Leave your rivalries at the door. Understood?" She does not wait for an answer, but continues on with the lesson.

"Miss Thorn, I must say your opinion is a particularly unusual one; learning dark arts to further protect yourself from them. It takes true bravery… or true fear to learn the inner workings of that which you want to be safe from," her gaze rests for a moment on the curious girl in yellow robes before moving on to the boy whose application had been so… full. "You make an interesting point. Motivation is key in almost all magic, and if you do not have your mind in the right place for a spell it can backfire in the most disastrous of ways. But you're all old enough to know that," her eyebrow raises significantly, as if to make sure that none of her students are dim enough to think they can just cast spells willy-nilly without consequences. "In any case, power is a significant use for the Dark Arts. That is often the resulting, if not initializing, reason people use dark magic. Sometimes it begins as self preservation, but it almost always ends for self gain, and when it reaches that point… it always ends badly. Always."

When the next green-clad student speaks, Mafelda's ears perk with inquiry. "Mr. Drachen…" her eyes rest blankly on the boy, as if her inner thoughts are trying to press in to his for more information, "You may have already chosen your path." Her face remains a mask for her thoughts, though her mind is reeling at the boy's perception of darkness. 'It's almost as if he views it like another type of light…' she tilts her head, almost wanting to demand that he continue speaking, but she holds back. There will be plenty of time for that later if necessary. The next boy to speak is Drachen's friend, "Ah… one who understands the addiction," her eyes narrow and she muses to herself, 'These two will be the fuel.' She walks between the desks and chairs of the comrades and states, "One hundred points to whatever house you're part of, Mister Yves." She taps her hand on the back of his chair—her version of a pat on the back—walks around him and strides back up to the front of the class.

"One of the most important things you need to learn about the Dark Arts is its addictive power…" she pauses, clenches her fist, and turns back to the class, "I'll have to get to that later though…" she shakes her head and listens to the next student's observations. "Coeus, Erys… very similar ideas. It is not worth judging what, but who and why as well. It is not enough to take things at face value. And I completely agree," she nods, pleased at the outcome of her class thus far. "I see you two having very Asian outlooks on life… perhaps you are each other's Yin and Yang… the question is: which one of you has more power over shadows?"

"Together you have all created a complete and whole idea of what the Dark Arts mean, now I will explain what they are," the candles flicker as if a breeze were blowing through the room, but with the windows closed and the heavy curtains drawn it is impossible for that to be the case.

"The Dark Arts," her voice is a hushed whisper, "Are the unnatural side of reality. They are that which cannot be on their own." For the first time in a long time, a full and grim smirk graces the woman's gaunt features. "The dark arts take that which is and turns it into that which is impossible." She unsheathes her wand and makes a swirling motion with it, making all the desks and chairs in the room shift to create a circle. Mafelda walks to the center of it. "There are some things that magic by itself can not do," she says when she reaches the middle, facing Via and Coeus. "Magic can not create money." She waves her wand and shouts, "Accio Galleons!" The sound of metal clattering against metal resounds, and a hundred shining golden coins fly in through the door and land in a glittering pyramid on Mafelda's desk, "Magic can summon money, but not create it. On the other hand," she turns to face Jason and Erys, "It can create something that is worth money." Mafelda aims her wand at the coins on the desk and almost purrs at them, "Fundo." The coins glitter like sand in the desert, like the heat waves rippling off muggle streets in August. They become a golden pool dripping off of the Professor's desk, and then Hundar speaks again, "Formo." The golden droplets pull themselves back together on the ivory desk, swaying and shifting until they recreate a glittering mound on the table. Mafelda weaves an intricate pattern with her wand and a golden aura surrounds the molten metal, and a moment later a detailed figurine of a golden Nundu sits on her desk.

"The Dark Arts," she says again, re-sheathing her wand, "Do not use something natural and already made to complete their goals. They take something pure and clean, and form it into what they need it to be," she points at the golden cat on her desk. "For a hundred galleons, I could live sparingly for a year. But if I sold this figurine for a thousand galleons to an art collector, I can live well for a year. And just so we're clear, those were not Dark spells. I am simply trying to make a point." She goes back to lean on her desk and watches her students, "The Dark Arts are a cruel manipulation of nature. You can stab a person and make them bleed and hurt and it makes sense; that's how knives affect people. But, you can use the Cruciatus Curse, and inflict infinite pain on them; not killing them, not letting them bleed to release the pressure on their system, just hurting them continuously, magnanimously until their body can no longer handle the unnatural effects and their minds give up the fight, allowing a person to go insane just to relieve the uncontrollable, body wrenching pain."

She stares at her students, glad that she is not a psychic at this moment in time. She prefers to see first hand the live thought process of her class. After a moment or two of strange, introspective silence, she continues, "Granted, money, torture, and murder are not the only uses, or reasons for the Dark Arts, but this lecture was just to give you an idea of what you are going to see and experience over the next semester. Any questions?"