She explains this compromise to Feral, when the semester changes over. She's just in the next segment of each of the core curriculum courses - no electives till seventh grade, when the brooms course is over with - but they'll have all different teachers and schedules and classmates. (Feral is still in her Defense course, and now so are Sherlock and Tony; she has the twins in brooms and theory, too, and Feral in potions.) "Bugs are really stupid and they have really simple nervous systems. You could probably get a B like I did if you would work on bugs."
"Well, you could at least stop having to sit out entire lessons. You can get really really good at sixth grade stuff," she snorts. "And practice outside of classes, if you want to catch your own bugs and read other years' textbooks from the library, I dunno if you care enough."
Stroll.
Stroll.
He is also making preparations for a certain demonstration.
He passes in front of Sherlock.
It feels rather like a part of her body she didn't know she had has been thrust into unfriendly weather.
But it's wearing a raincoat.
She swats away the - spell, some kind of spell - and Mr. Phelps's eyes widen in surprise and his mouth opens a tiny bit - and she stands up out of her chair -
"What did you just try to do to me?"
"I've been doing this for second-semester sixth graders for nine years," says Mr. Phelps. "I am not an unsafe practitioner of the charm - none of you would have suffered more than a moment's disorientation similar in effect to inattention or drowsiness that children invariably experience in school anyway -"
"That sounds fantastic. Let me double-check that impulse," mutters Bella, and she puts her notebook on her knees and starts scribbling, pausing occasionally to scrub a tear away from her face. "But he's been doing it for years, I don't know how your mom would do it."
"Maybe. But that just implies that no one else has a rich pureblood parent who chose to yell about it." Bella pauses. "Or that Mr. Phelps has been Memory Charming extra people. But - apparently he can't do it to me - so - will you believe me if he tries to cover it up?" she asks dubiously.
"I didn't even come up with anything good to try. Feral was going to test stuff for me because he didn't mind me trying to break through, but eventually we figured out he wasn't a good subject. I've been working on other stuff. And a little bit of made-up Occlumency practice, here and there, but it's supposed to be really hard to get to be a good Occlumens."
It turns out that Nike is in Tony's room.
"Hey, buddy," she says. "I need to send a letter to Mom, you up for it?"
Nike bobs her head regally.
"Cool," says Tony, and she ties the letter gently to Nike's claw with a bit of ribbon.
"In fact," says Mr. Phelps, "as happens in about half my classes, someone - welcome back, Miss Swan, Miss Stark - was able to identify what happened, although I don't know how much of a part the subsequent outburst played in providing clues. Nicely done, Miss Stark - can you lead us through your thought process as you came to realize what I'd done?" Mr. Phelps asks Sherlock.
"A few seconds of my experience of the world went missing just as you were passing by me," he says. "And then Bella yelled, just as you were passing by her - it seemed obvious that you were Memory Charming us to make a point and she had thrown you off or at least noticed."
"Thank you," says Mr. Phelps. "Unfortunately, allowing the front half of the class to try their respective hands at noticing something amiss would require more editing than I ever perform on students at this point, but do notice that everyone behind Miss Stark here, who was charmed, merely assumed they'd 'spaced out', re-read the paragraph that had gone missing, and otherwise went on undisturbed. In other words, 'spacing out' - making a general habit of it - is a hazard to your ability to react to your surroundings. Attention, and the readiness to react, are the core of Defense."