Chapter Five
“My name is Nossifer Vulpine,” the man insisted, as he walked to the front of the classroom in his squeaky running shoes and set a heavy trunk down on the desk before him. “Here is my magical wand,” he said, pulling a stout rod from within his trunk, “and here are my papers of accreditation.” He pulled out some official-looking documents and waved them around for all to see. “So as you can plainly see, I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Five points from Ravenclaw for suggesting otherwise.”
“But nobody –” a girl spoke up.
“Another five for speaking out of turn,” Nossifer Vulpine said.
Violet and Klaus stared at each other in dismay. They had thought that, of all places, they would surely be safe from Olaf’s clutches at Hogwarts. The institution was a secret to most of the world, and it was protected by all sorts of charms and defences. How on Earth had Olaf managed to even find them, let alone follow them inside?
“I’m not one of those wishy-washy teachers who’ll do all the work for you and show you how to do everything,” Professor Vulpine said, a cunning gleam in his eye. “I expect you to prove to me that you are truly worthy of those wands you bear. We’ll start with…” He began flipping through several sheaves of paper that appeared to be lesson plans, and settled on one near the end. “A simple entrapment jinx,” he announced, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “The incantation is, ‘submissa.’ You two midgets,” he said, pointing at Violet and Klaus, “can go first.”
Violet and Klaus’s hearts sank as they heard these words, and Violet spoke up to explain what everyone present already knew. “We can’t perform magic,” she told Professor Vulpine. “We’re non-magical students here on an experimental basis…”
Professor Vulpine smiled wider and wider, and his eyes shined as if he were a small child presented with a huge stack of colourfully-wrapped presents, rather than a truly evil man confronting his powerless victims. “Non-magical?” he repeated. “Don’t you even have wands?”
Klaus bowed his head. “No.”
“No,
sir,” Vulpine repeated.
Klaus gritted his teeth. “No,
sir.”
Vulpine tutted. “Well well well,” he said. “Well well well. How I am supposed to work under these conditions I cannot imagine. Ten points from Ravenclaw for being such an enormous inconvenience to everyone in this school. Just look at the time you’re wasting.” He paused for a moment, and the Baudelaires sank into even deeper despair as they saw his grotesque smile spread even wider as an idea suddenly occurred to him. “But there is one useful function you can perform in my classroom,” Vulpine said, barely able to restrain his glee.
Violet, not wanting to give this awful man any more excuses to pick on them, spoke up. “What is that, sir?” she asked, with extraordinary politeness considering the awful circumstances.
The next words Olaf spoke are two words so awful that hearing them is never, ever a good thing. “Target practice,” he sneered. “Come and stand in the middle of the classroom, in this cleared space here.”
In the middle of the classroom was an open space that was clearly to be used for practicing spells, and Violet and Klaus glumly walked over to it.
“Now, the rest of you students form a line in front of Veronica and Klyde,” Vulpine said, “and on my word, cast ‘submissa’ upon them. Whichever you like.”
The other students hesitated, looking awkwardly at one another.
“Ten points –” Vulpine began, and suddenly there was a scraping of chair legs as everyone leapt from their places to line up to cast their spells on Violet and Klaus, although most of them did not look especially happy about it.
Violet looked at Klaus in desperation, and then at the malevolent teacher. “Please, sir,” she asked, “can we not copy out passages from the books, or at least set out some mats –”
“No mats,” Vulpine said, side-stepping to block a large roll of cushioned mats from view, “and no talking from the targets. First student, go!”
A thin young boy nervously twiddling his wand was first, and he looked ruefully from Violet to Klaus, before eventually settling on Klaus, probably because he thought it was a dreadful thing to attack an unarmed woman. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Klaus.
“What was that?” Vulpine interrupted sharply. “Five points from Ravenclaw for talking!”
“Actually, sir, I’m in Gryffindor,” the boy spoke up.
“Five points from Gryffindor too, then,” Vulpine said. He slouched in his chair, put his trainer-clad feet on his desk, and grinned at Violet and Klaus. “Begin.”
There is no point in me relating the following hour of Defence Against the Dark Arts class to you, because I’m sure you can imagine exactly what transpired, and it didn’t involve Violet and Klaus defending themselves from the dark arts one bit. Student after student, many of them contrite – a word which here means “feeling extremely guilty to be attacking a defenceless person” – but others eager, cast spell after spell on Violet and Klaus. The only good thing I can say about the whole experience is that many of the students were not very good at the spell Olaf had picked and given them no help with, and simply caused Violet and Klaus to feel like they were being squeezed in a giant concertina. As the class wore on, however, some of the students began to get very good at it, and Violet and Klaus were sent crashing to the hard stone floor, feeling as if they were tied up in invisible ropes and unable to speak – and it is true to say that this is very much how Violet and Klaus felt not just since Olaf had walked into the classroom, but since the day he had opened his front door and walked into their lives. It was as if the two of them were trapped and alone in some horrible dungeon, unable to escape or even cry out for help because of this terrible man’s ways, and when the class was finally, finally over, and Violet and Klaus finally permitted to leave with bruises all over their thin bodies, they felt no different. They couldn’t stand up to Nossifer Vulpine, and they couldn’t even ask their fellow students to help. In fact, it was just another return to the usual misery of their lives. The only thing Violet and Klaus were remotely thankful for was that Sunny, at least, was safe, and immediately after getting out of that miserable dungeon they hurried along to the kitchens, to ensure their sister’s safety and to warn them of Olaf’s return.
Speaking the password “gorgeous gourmet goulash,” the Baudelaires stepped through the painting doorway and into the house-elves’ area, where elves skipped and danced left and right on their menial errands. Sunny was sitting at the end of the room, chewing happily on a plate, and while her first reaction to seeing her siblings was joy, her face fell when she saw the dismay on their own faces. It was an expression she knew very well.
“Olaf,” she whispered.
Violet and Klaus nodded grimly as they sat down with their sister. “Yes, Sunny,” Violet said, her voice filled with despair. “We don’t know how, but he’s here, and he’s determined to torment us.”
“He’s disguised himself as a teacher – Professor Nossifer Vulpine – and we just spent an hour being magically attacked by other students on his orders,” Klaus said. “We can’t possibly endure this for very long. We have to do something.”
“Bunk?” asked Sunny.
Klaus nodded. “Skipping his classes is the only real option. We can’t guarantee he won’t turn up anywhere else, but so long as we aren’t left alone with him, we should be relatively okay.”
“But there’s something else we absolutely have to do,” Violet said, firmly. “We have to tell Professor Dumbledore. He’s clearly a brilliant man, and even if he doesn’t believe us at first, I’m sure he’ll at least listen to us.”
Klaus pushed his glasses up his nose. “We’ll go and ask at the staff room for him, or for the location of his office. And Sunny – make sure you don’t leave this place, not out of the company of a house-elf or someone else you can rely on. With Vulpine on the prowl, we need to be very careful indeed.”
Sunny placed a little hand on each of her siblings’ fingers. “Luck,” she whispered, and Violet and Klaus wished her the same, before they went to look for the staff room.
Some of the paintings had heard rumours about the disastrous Defence Against the Dark Arts session, and were keen to point out the staff room to the Baudelaires. When they reached it, they knocked on the door, and were met by the severe-looking woman who’d been in charge of the Sorting.
“Yes?” she asked, looking down at them. “What is it?”
Violet was about to speak up, when she noticed something distressing. A little way behind the woman, in conversation with the similarly bitter Professor Snape, was Professor Vulpine. As he spoke, he turned his head towards the door, and his eyes glimmered ferociously at Violet.
Violet ignored him, and spoke up. “We have to see Professor Dumbledore,” she said. “It’s urgent.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” the woman said, sternly. “We can’t have people bothering the headmaster all day long. What seems to be the trouble?”
Klaus, too, had noticed Professor Vulpine, and was determined not to be bullied. “Professor Nossifer Vulpine is not who you think he is,” Klaus said quietly. “This is just one of his many disguises. His real name is –”
“Oh, not this again,” the woman sighed, closing her eyes as if she had a headache. “Professor Vulpine is a renowned magical scholar in his home country, and he wears a turban for religious reasons. He is not hiding anything whatsoever, and he most certainly is not an agent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Violet interrupted, confused. “He’s not got anything to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He’s –”
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” the woman said, shaking her head in a world-weary way. “It’s bad enough Potter taking against every new teacher this school hires, without this nonsense spreading to the other students as well. Good day, Baudelaires.”
She shut the door on the children, and the sound reminded them of the many other times adults had ignored their warnings, and what had happened to those adults. They remembered Uncle Monty, who thought Count Olaf was trying to steal his reptile research, and Aunt Josephine, who thought he was a charming sailor, and Charles, who had nearly been sawn in half by Count Olaf and his henchman. Two of these people were dead, and the other had barely escaped; now the Baudelaires worried for the fate of their teachers, too, as they sadly returned to tell Sunny the news.
“Is there anyone else we can talk to?” asked Klaus, wearily.
Violet pulled out her schedule, and ran her eyes down it. A look of sudden hope passed over her face. “Yes,” she said, excitedly. “Look at what it says here. ‘Ministry of Magic supervisor, Mullish Simmer.’ This must be the government agent overseeing our education. He’s got an office in the school. We can talk to him!”
Glad smiles returned to the Baudelaires’ glum faces at this thought. Mullish Simmer was sure to take an interest, if he was in charge of their education, and he might even be able to secure them a meeting with Dumbledore. As the Baudelaires hurried down to the kitchens once again to find Sunny – quite ignoring their dinner – they allowed themselves, once again, to believe in hope. But hope, as you should know by now, is the cruellest trick of all.
Chapter Six
Mullish Simmer’s office was in a high tower not far from the Ravenclaw chambers, and Violet, Klaus, and Sunny hurried up there, hoping that he would be working there and willing to see the three Baudelaire children about their problems. What the Baudelaires had really needed, throughout all of their adventures, was a second opinion. A second opinion is something you might get from a second doctor, or a second examiner for your flower-arranging class. It simply means that, after first having consulted one person who told you something you probably didn’t want to hear, you then go and talk to someone else who is equally-qualified and who you hope will tell you something better. The person the Baudelaires had spoken to at the staff room had not given them an opinion they were very pleased with at all, so with Mullish Simmer they were hoping for a second opinion, one more in line with their own thoughts.
“Mr. Simmer?” Violet asked, knocking on the tall wooden door of Mullish Simmer’s office as the nearby paintings craned their necks to see. “Sir?” She waited a minute before knocking again, loudly rapping her knuckles against the hard wood, and this finally got a reaction, as the door was wrenched open from within.
Mullish Simmer was a fairly short and fairly chubby wizard whose robes had clearly been grown into, as they strained around his stomach. Draped around his neck were a number of possibly magical but actually purely decorative chains and necklaces, and in one of his hands was a fork, which the Baudelaires found rather odd, but didn’t mention.
“Yes?” he asked, squinting at the Baudelaires. “Who is it?”
“It’s the Baudelaires, Mr. Simmer,” Violet explained, calmly. “We’d like to discuss some aspects of our education with you.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Mr. Simmer said, and waved them in with his fork. “Do come – Potter?!” He began squinting intently at Klaus, blinking furiously.
“Klaus Baudelaire, sir,” Klaus said. “I’ve been told I look like Harry Potter.”
Mullish Simmer dipped a hand – the one not holding a fork – into one of his pockets, and brought out a small pair of glasses with thick lenses. Perching them on his nose, he squinted at Klaus once again; he reminded Klaus of a cartoon mole he had once seen in a story book. “Remarkable things, Muggles,” he breathed, in wonder. “Remarkable.”
He stared at Klaus for just long enough to make the boy uncomfortable, and then seemed to remember where he was. “Anyway, come in,” Mullish Simmer said, slipping his glasses back into his pocket and closing the door behind the Baudelaires. “Do take a seat. Er, these are ‘chairs,’ let me explain –”
“Muggles have chairs, Mr. Simmer,” Klaus interrupted, as he and his sisters sat down. “We’ve been using them for thousands of years.”
“Remarkable,” Mr. Simmer repeated, as he sat down in his own rather grander chair. “Now. Erm. Tell me –”
The Baudelaires could not help but notice that on his desk, besides various stacks of paper, multicoloured envelopes, and half-empty inkwells, was a large plate richly piled with food. A knife was stuck in the middle of a turkey breast. Mullish Simmer hurriedly produced a wand from his sleeve, waved it at the turkey, and the plate floated down behind his desk and out of sight.
“Tell me what is troubling you,” he said, his expression one of concern.
The Baudelaire siblings looked at each other, and Violet began. “Today we had our first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson,” she explained. “But when the teacher, Professor Nossifer Vulpine, entered the room, we recognised him instantly.”
“Met him before, eh?” asked Mr. Simmer. “Worried about academic bias?”
“After a fashion,” Klaus answered carefully. “This man was actually in disguise. His turban is covering a single eyebrow, and his high-top running shoes a tattoo of an eye on his ankle.”
“How do you know this?” Mr. Simmer frowned. “Did he take his shoes off in the middle of a lesson?”
“No, Mr. Simmer,” Violet explained. “We have indeed met him before, when he was not wearing this disguise, or any other. He is a wanted criminal who has come here to persecute us and try to steal our fortune.”
“Olaf!” cried Sunny, banging her fist on Mr. Simmer’s desk evocatively.
“I say!” Simmer cried. “Wanted criminal… persecuting Muggles… are you saying that this man is some sort of Dark agent?”
“Again, after a fashion,” Klaus repeated. “He is not really a teacher, but has come here dressed as one to commit a terrible crime. It is vital that we expose and arrest him.”
“I see,” muttered Mr. Simmer, his eyes suddenly drifting towards his hands, as if there was something there that only he could see. “I see…” He cleared his throat, and rubbed his arm.
“You do believe us, don’t you, sir?” asked Violet, and all three Baudelaires looked at him plaintively, a word which here means “very sadly, and inspiring much grief.”
If you have read all of the stories of the Baudelaires before this one, you are probably aware that they are usually right, but not usually believed. Everywhere they have gone, people have dismissed and denied them, and as a result Count Olaf has been allowed to run free committing all sorts of devious acts. But as you have probably realised, this adventure of the Baudelaires’ is quite different to the others, and so Mullish Simmer’s answer is probably quite different to the one you were expecting.
“Yes,” Mr. Simmer said. “I do believe you.”
“Yowdoo?” replied Sunny, in astonishment.
“Yes, I do,” he repeated. “It makes sense. Last year, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher turned out to be working for You-Know-Who, and why shouldn’t he try the same trick again? Yes, it’s clear that this Nossifer Vulpine is really some dastardly spy up to no good. It’s vital that we keep an eye on him and bring him to justice.
“But listen here,” Mr. Simmer said, suddenly lowering his voice. “We can’t just burst in on him and tear off his turban and shoes. We don’t do things like that in the Wizarding World. So here’s what we’ll have to do: I want you to keep on attending Nossifer Vulpine’s classes, and keep a very close eye on him indeed. Gather as much evidence about this man as possible. We’ll need to convince the school authorities that this man has a case to answer, and then we’ll make him answer it.”
Violet and Klaus exchanged glances. “Just his first class was terribly painful,” she said. “He made us the target for everyone’s spells, and I’m sure he’ll keep on attacking us in the same way.”
“All the more evidence,” Mullish Simmer said, waving a hand at them. “If you can show the strength to resist it, those same spells will become lines of evidence against this Vulpine character.”
“He might try to get us thrown out of the school,” Klaus went on, “by undermining our academic performance. If that happens, then –”
But at these words, Mullish Simmer had pushed his chair back, and drawn himself up to his full height. Admittedly, this was not very tall, but the effect was impressive.
“Now listen here,” he said, in a commanding voice. “I am your supervisor, in charge of this radical Muggle experiment, and I want it to succeed! As long as I am in charge, I’ll make sure that nobody at Hogwarts dares throw you out! You have the word of Mullish Simmer!”
This dramatic exclamation was exactly the reassurance the Baudelaires had come to Mr. Simmer for. After spending so long being distrusted and disbelieved, to finally have someone stand up for them, literally, was a great relief. The Baudelaires now had an ally – and a plan: To investigate Nossifer Vulpine and expose him for the fraud he was. Perhaps, with not just magic, but other people on their side, the Baudelaires could finally defeat Count Olaf and find a long-lasting home for themselves.
