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Author: Hank Story: Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 8 Words: 126,113
A/N: Once again, I would like to thank my intrepid betas, Dale, Nancy, and Promethean Alchemist for all their hard work. I would also like to thank all of you who have reviewed, especially Kate. Ya'll are the reason I keep writing. ***** Harry stared in amazement at the schedule Professor McGonagall had just handed him, wondering how she had managed to place him in Snape's N.E.W.T.-level Potions class. He had seen the potions textbook on his bed, but thought someone had made a mistake. After all, it had been Dobby who had procured his textbooks. "What's wrong, Harry?" asked Ron. Harry's attention returned to the noisy reality of a Monday morning breakfast at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall as he looked up from his schedule. "'Morning, Harry," said Ginny as she sat down across from him, smiling at him with the merest hint of a blush on the tips of her ears. "'Morning, Ginny," answered Harry as he smiled in return, glad to see her once again. "This can't be right," Harry told Ron as his attention returned to his schedule. "It says I'm scheduled for N.E.W.T.-level Potions class at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Hermione gagged a bit and then pulled Harry's schedule out of his hands to take a look at it. "That can't be right," muttered Hermione. "Snape absolutely refuses to take any students who score lower than Outstanding on their potions O.W.L." "Why don't you check with Professor McGonagall?" said Ginny. "I'll bet she knows what's going on." "Good idea," said Harry as he got up from his seat. He snatched his schedule from Hermione, who was scowling as if though she had seen cockroaches crawling all over it, and went over to see his head of house, who was busily handing out schedules to the rest of the students seated at the Gryffindor table. "Professor McGonagall, may I speak with you for a moment?" asked Harry as he approached her and tried to get her attention. Professor McGonagall handed out the schedule that was in her hand and then turned her attention to Harry. "Of course you may, Mr. Potter," she replied as she turned from the table and smiled her normal tight-lipped smile at Harry. "Erm, there has to be some kind of mistake with my schedule," said Harry. "What is wrong with it?" asked Professor McGonagall. "It states that I have N.E.W.T.-level potions tomorrow at eight o'clock." "Yes, that's quite correct," replied McGonagall. "But I thought Professor Snape didn't take on any students who scored less than ‘outstanding' on their O.W.L.s," stated Harry. Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry. "Yes, that's true, but fortunately for you, I was able to persuade Professor Snape to make an exception." "Thank you, Professor," replied Harry. "At least, I think so." McGonagall laughed at Harry and then eyed him seriously. "You will need to put forth a serious effort in Professor Snape's class. Do you understand me, Potter?" "Yes, ma'am," replied Harry immediately. "Otherwise, I may not be able to have you placed in next year's class and I would hate to have to teach you N.E.W.T.-level potions myself. I never did like potions," said McGonagall with a wink. "Thank you, professor," said Harry. Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry. "You're welcome, Mr. Potter," she said and went back to handing out the schedules. "So what did she say?" asked Ron as Harry sat back down at his place at the table. "She said she managed to convince Snape to permit me to take the class," replied Harry as he noticed Hermione and Ginny listening intently. "I wonder what she had to do to accomplish that?" commented Ron. "I'm not sure I want to know," replied Harry, his amazement beginning to turn to paranoia as he wondered what Snape was going to do to him to make him pay for the privilege. Harry almost chuckled as he saw Ginny cringe at his comment. "Harry, why are you still taking Divination?" asked Hermione. Harry noticed that Ron and Ginny had begun staring at him with amazed looks on their faces. "Erm, well, I want to stay close to Trelawney in case she prophesies again." "Oh," said Ron and Hermione together. Satisfied with Harry's answer, they both turned their attention back to their breakfasts. Harry noticed Ginny was still giving him a questioning stare. "Professor Trelawney prophesied at the end of our third year," said Harry in reply to Ginny's unspoken question. "She foretold the rise of Voldemort and warned us that Wormtail was going to rejoin his master." "Yeah, it's just too bad she didn't tell us Scabbers was Wormtail," muttered Ron resentfully. "I'd have let Crookshanks eat him if I'd have known." Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all laughed at Ron, remembering how protective he had been of the old rat. "That will teach you for not trusting my cat," said Hermione as she winked at Ron. He smiled at her and pulled her one of her hands close, covering it gently with his. Harry looked away from Ron and Hermione and noticed that Ginny was screwing up the courage to ask him a question. "Harry, I know this is a bit off-topic, but I was wondering if you could give me some additional Seeker training once Quidditch practice has resumed. Perhaps we could do it after the regular practice sessions or on the weekends maybe?" Harry was surprised by Ginny's request, knowing that she had been dead set on becoming a Chaser last year, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It always helped to have a reserve player for the Seeker position and who knew if anyone better than Ginny would try out for the position when he left. "Sure," he replied knowing he could use the extra practice time as well since he had been off of his broom for so long. "That's an excellent idea. I may even sit out a game so you can get more playing time in the position. It will give the team a leg up when I graduate." Harry spent the remainder of breakfast engaged in a pleasant conversation with Ginny about the capabilities of Kirke and Sloper, the two Beaters who had replaced Fred and George last year during their and Harry's ban. Harry was worried that they couldn't cut it, but Ginny was of the opinion that they would improve with more playing time, much like Ron had. By the end of their conversation, she had convinced him that he should give them another season of play. "Where are you off to, Hermione?" asked Harry as he noticed her getting her things ready to go. "Arithmancy," she answered as she swung her backpack over her shoulder. Harry turned his attention to Ron, whom he noticed reaching for seconds rather than his books. "Ron, don't you have a class to go to?" asked Harry. "No, I've got an open period in my schedule. I'm thinking about grabbing a nap after a little bit more breakfast; either that or maybe a nice game of chess," added Ron as he leaned back with his hands behind his head, making it rather obvious he was enjoying the lazy start to his morning. Harry laughed as he caught the smirk Ron directed at Hermione, recognizing that he was egging her on. "You'd better use your time to get prepared for Charms," replied Hermione. "We're beginning N.E.W.T.-level studies this year, in case you haven't noticed yet." "You'd better get some practice in on the Quidditch pitch if you know what's good for you," stated Harry forcefully, winking at Ron. "We've got a match coming up against Ravenclaw in just a couple of months." "Harry!" stated Hermione crossly. "Who do you think you are? Oliver Wood?" "As a matter of fact…" muttered Ron, rolling his eyes, trying to keep his smirk from becoming too obvious. "Why, yes, I am captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, aren't I, Ron?" Hermione huffed at Harry and left in a flurry of bushy brown hair. Harry turned as he heard Ginny snicker at his comments. "So where are you headed to, Ginny?" asked Harry as he noticed her getting up from the table and retrieving her backpack. "Care of Magical Creatures," she replied as she picked up her books. "Would you do me a favor and tell Hagrid ‘hello' for me?" asked Harry as he realized that it was very likely he wouldn't see Hagrid until much later on in the week. "I will, Harry," replied Ginny, smiling. Harry enjoyed Ginny's smile and all of a sudden he felt himself becoming a bit warm in the ears. He heaved his backpack on, grateful for the diversion, and hoped he wasn't blushing or anything. "Thanks," he said, and set off for the North Tower. After the long walk, Harry climbed the silver rope ladder, emerging into the Divination classroom. He made a beeline for one of the windows, unlocking the latch and lifting it open before sitting down in the squishy armchair next to it. Neither the stifling atmosphere nor Harry's dislike of it had changed since the last time he had been there. A feeling of apprehension descended upon him as he waited for Professor Trelawney to emerge. Ron was not going to be with him to keep him distracted and commiserate with him during the obtuse lessons. While he nervously waited, he noticed Lavender and Parvati, who he was not surprised to see in the class, cast wondering glances in his direction. He smiled what he hoped was a confident smile at them before looking over the rest of the class. There weren't very many students. There were a handful of Gryffindors, quite a few Hufflepuffs, no Ravenclaws, and a group of Slytherins clustered at one large table. Harry's attention focused on the Slytherin table. He looked it over carefully, wondering if Malfoy was among their number. Through the haze of perfumed smoke coming out of the fireplace he noticed Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and two other Slytherin girls he didn't recognize. A jingling noise and a soft, ethereal voice distracted him from the Slytherins as a somewhat sober Professor Trelawney greeted her class. "Welcome to the N.E.W.T.-level Divination. I am pleased to finally see all of you whom I have foreseen taking the class this year." She paused dramatically as her eyes fell on Harry. Her bottom lip quivered and she appeared to become rather agitated. "Especially you, Mr. Potter," she finally said, appearing to become sorrowful for a moment and then appearing to stiffen with resolve. "You must be strong, Potter," she stated in a loud, ethereal voice. "I see darkness, punctuated by flashes of green light. Be strong!" she finished in a pleading voice, almost shouting. Harry swallowed nervously as he noticed the eyes of everyone in the class on him. They turned away from him suddenly as Trelawney loudly cleared her throat and began to outline her plans for the coming year. As it turned out, sixth year Divination was going to be somewhat of a mini History of Magic, with particular emphasis placed upon the famous seers. The classes would focus on their prophecies, reviewing the accuracies thereof, and how to tell whether or not they were true Seers. The great prophets as well as the great fakes would be studied. Harry felt a sense of relief as he listened to Trelawney's introduction to the course. Although he would still have to listen to Trelawney's predictions of his imminent demise, he would no longer have to make up ridiculous predictions concerning his near future. He also found himself becoming interested in the content as he noted that famous prophecies would be covered and discussed. After all, he thought, given that he was the subject of prophecy, how could he not be interested in learning more about them? "I feel the need to apologize for the boring content of this year's curriculum, however, this information will be on the N.E.W.T.s and all students must master it if they expect to pass. Personally, I prefer the more interactive areas of Divination," said Professor Trelawney with an indication that she thought the curriculum beneath her, "but we must do what we must do." "Since we will be studying Seers this year, perhaps it would be best to define what is meant by the word ‘Seer'," said Trelawney as she looked over the class. "Miss Patil, I sense you know the answer?" "Yes, professor," replied Parvati with a smug grin on her face. "A seer is a witch or wizard who is known to prophesy with one-hundred percent accuracy." Professor Trelawney smiled. "Ten points for Gryffindor," she said. "Miss Patil is correct – the designation ‘Seer' is reserved only for those who have prophesied with one-hundred percent accuracy." "Excuse me, Professor," said Harry rapidly as his hand shot in the air. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" asked Trelawney as she eyed Harry with a look of confusion. "How exactly would you know if a witch or wizard has prophesied with one-hundred percent accuracy? What if their prediction wouldn't come to pass until after their death?" "The designation of ‘Seer' would be awarded if all prophecies expected to be fulfilled within a reasonable amount of time were accurately predicted," replied Trelawney, looking a bit bored. "For those prophecies which predict events of the far future, the Ministry of Magic keeps a complete record in the Department of Mysteries. All witches or wizards who believe they have heard a prophecy are required to report it to the Ministry of Magic so it can be recorded and preserved for future research. There are instances where witches and wizards have been designated Seers long after their deaths." Harry winced as he remembered destroying vast numbers of prophetic records last year during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. He dismissed his thoughts quickly as Trelawney began lecturing the class about famous Seers, dramatically letting it slip that she was related to the famous Seer Cassandra Vablatsky. Harry's eyebrows rose at the mention that Trelawney was related to a famous and proven Seer. A smirk came across his face as he realized the only time she appeared to truly prophesy was when she was completely unaware of the situation. As Trelawney moved on to famous prophecies and the methods witches and wizards used to interpret them, Harry found himself fascinated. Whereas the Centaurs tended to put forth (at least to humans) a muddled, vague, and general understanding of the future which only became clear as events unfolded, the prophecies and Trelawney's interpretation of them tended to point to more specific possibilities. Of the two interpretational methods witches and wizards used, literal and symbolic, Trelawney favored the symbolic interpretational style. Harry would have guessed she would, since it allowed her to be more flamboyant in her interpretations. It went right along with her normal fortune-telling style. Harry, however, preferred the literal interpretational style, which, although presented with far less enthusiasm, was still covered very adequately. Harry thought about Trelawney's prophecies regarding him in light of the two styles for a moment. As he did, his thoughts went back to the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and he wondered about the ‘Servant of Voldemort'. Applied literally, the prophecy Trelawney had spoken his third year could have applied to either Wormtail or Crouch. Both were Voldemort's servants and both were instrumental in his resurrection. Both of them also sought to return to their master, yet only one did, while a Dementor kissed the other. Harry cringed as he remembered the Dementor kissing Barty Crouch, Jr. Despite himself, Harry found himself feeling sorry for Crouch; outright death would have been preferable to that particular fate. As he continued to ponder the prophecy, the duality struck him as odd. The prophecy truly could have been applied to either Wormtail or Crouch, whom Harry guessed would have been more than happy to donate his arm as he had already gone to Azkaban rather than renounce Voldemort. Thinking on it a bit more, Harry remembered that Trelawney's first prophecy could have been applied either to himself or Neville. Harry shuddered as he thought about it, wondering what the ramifications of the dual possibilities were. "Mr. Potter." Harry started as he realized his name was being called. He looked up and saw Trelawney staring at him. "Yes, professor?" "Please remain after class," said Trelawney. "Yes, ma'am," replied Harry quickly. Harry noticed that she seemed a bit peeved at him. An instant later, the bell rang indicating the end of the class. Harry shifted on his feet nervously as he noticed the rest of the class giving him looks as they left. As the last student cleared out, Harry went up to where Trelawney was erasing the board with a few quick spells from her wand. "Professor Trelawney, I'm sorry if it appeared I wasn't paying attention for a moment. I was comparing what you said about literal prophetic interpretations with your prophecies about Voldemort." Trelawney turned with a start at the mention of Voldemort's name. "I'm sorry," muttered Harry. "I mean, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." "I prophesied about the Dark Lord?" asked Trelawney, as she began to look sick. "Yes, don't you remember?" replied Harry. "When you first interviewed for your position, you made a prophecy about Voldemort." Professor Trelawney shook visibly at the mention of Voldemort's name and then swallowed nervously, her eyes appearing to become as wide as saucers behind her overly large glasses. "Professor Dumbledore did mention that I had prophesied, but he neglected to mention that it was about the Dark Lord." "And again, in my third year," added Harry, "you prophesied the return and rise of Voldemort…er, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the return of his ‘faithful servant'." Trelawney trembled violently for a moment, finally steadying herself against her desk. After a few moments to compose herself, she looked at Harry again. "All prophecies aside," she said, obviously wanting to avoid any discussion about Voldemort, "my intent on delaying you was not to ask about your inattention in my class, Potter, but rather to discuss your continuation in my class. Although I foresaw your continuation in Divination, I am confused as to why. I won't ask you to explain yourself," she stated, "however, I will make two demands upon you for the right to continue in my class. I will require that you be more respectful in class and that you make more of an effort at your work. Your work confuses me, Mr. Potter. One moment, you are making an outstanding series of predictions and the next moment you are mucking up a simple exercise such as crystal gazing or star charts. If interpreted correctly, I mean symbolically of course, most of your predictions, and Ronald Weasley's, too, I might add, have been quite accurate. I must insist that you begin applying whatever level of effort you have been applying to your predictions to your other coursework as well." Harry cringed inwardly as he realized that he and Ron had been applying no effort whatsoever to the predictions. Many of those had been predictions that Ron had made up just on a whim. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed to know which predictions Trelawney was referring to. "Professor," began Harry as his attention came back to Trelawney. Harry halted suddenly, the words unspoken as he noticed her eyes had rolled back into her head and a strange look overcame her face. He swallowed, realizing that she was about to prophesy again, and began to listen as the otherworldly voice spoke. "The One with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, Heir of Slytherin and Heir of Gryffindor, rises. For the second time, the path before him forks and he shall choose the path he follows. He shall stray from it, yet he shall return, for his heart rings true and the power of Slytherin shall be checked by the power of Gryffindor. He must be wary the satisfaction found in hatred and draw strength from that which his heart desires most, for the one which hates him the most shall give unto him great power, yet the one that loves him the most shall give unto him still greater power." Immediately on concluding, Professor Trelawney's eyes rolled back down to look at Harry and she continued lecturing him on his responsibilities as an upper classman in her course as if she had never stopped. "Is anything wrong, Mr. Potter?" asked Professor Trelawney as she noticed Harry staring at her curiously. "Erm, no Professor," muttered Harry as he shook off his surprise and struggled with his pack to pull out a quill and some parchment. He began writing the prophecy down immediately upon the parchment. "Mr. Potter, What are you doing?" asked Professor Trelawney, confused that Harry was pulling out parchment and quill and beginning to write rapidly. "Erm, you prophesied while you were talking to me, Professor," muttered Harry as he struggled to remember everything. "I did?" asked Trelawney, a look of dread appearing on her insect-like features. "What did I say?" she demanded, first clutching at her shawls and then nervously fingering her beads. "Something about the One with the power to defeat Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin and the Heir of Gryffindor, rising. The path before him forking and he stays on the path he has followed. The power of Gryffindor checking the power of Slytherin, and something about him not giving into hatred but drawing strength from the one who loves him the most." "Strange," said Professor Trelawney as she considered what Harry had told her. "No; couldn't possibly be right," she muttered nervously. "The Heir of Slytherin rose last year, but then again, the prophecy you mentioned I made prior to that did turn out to be correct, didn't it?" Harry nodded as he continued to scribble on the parchment as fast as his quill would allow, grateful for the self-inking quill Dobby had purchased for him. "But then again," she continued, "there hasn't been an heir to Gryffindor in centuries." She shook her head nervously not believing anything Harry had said and looked back down to him, watching as he was scribbling furiously. "I will permit you to take my upper level class, Potter, but I must impress upon you the seriousness with which you must undertake them." "I promise I'll be a model student," replied Harry as he finished recording the prophecy. He stared at the parchment, not sure that he had transcribed it correctly. "That can't be right," he muttered, as it looked like the prophecy was indicating the heir to the two houses was one person. "You may go now, Mr. Potter." "Yes, Professor, and thank you for allowing me to take your upper-level class. I promise I won't cause any trouble," he finished as he stuffed the parchment and the quill back into his bag. He threw his pack on quickly and hastened down the silver rope ladder wanting to speak to Ron and Hermione. Halfway to the Charms classroom, Harry slapped himself on the forehead as he realized he had forgotten to ask Professor Trelawney about his and Ron's predictions. Shaking his head, he made a mental note to ask her after the next class. Upon his arrival in Charms, Harry was frustrated to see that class had already begun. He sat down next to Ron and Hermione and quickly pulled out his textbook and opened it to the same page Hermione was on. "What took you so long?" asked Ron. "Trelawney prophesied again," whispered Harry excitedly. "She did what?" shouted Ron. He winced as he felt Hermione's elbow in his ribs. "Class, please pay attention!" demanded Professor Flitwick as he proceeded once again to explain how to animate and control an inanimate object. He waved his wand, muttered an incantation, and the child's doll on his desk got up, curtseyed, and began to dance. "I wrote it all down. I'll show it to you at lunch," whispered Harry as he began hastily taking notes. Professor Flitwick's lesson was bringing back memories of the battle at the Ministry of Magic, specifically of the moment when Dumbledore had charmed the remnants on the Statue of Magical Brethren to protect Harry from the curses that Voldemort was firing at him. Harry hastily forced the thoughts from his mind, still too angry with Dumbledore to want to remember it. Charms passed all too slowly for Harry's taste, but the class finally ended and the three of them nearly ran to the Great Hall. Harry slammed his backpack down on the Gryffindor table and pulled the parchment with his copy of the prophecy out and quickly handed it to Ron, who stopped eating and began reading. "What's all the fuss about?" asked Ginny as she sat down and noticed the intense looks passing between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Trelawney prophesied again," replied Harry. Ginny's fork clattered against her plate as she dropped it in surprise. "Let me see," she asked. Ron grimaced as he finished reading and handed the parchment off to Ginny. "So what does it mean?" he asked. "I'm not sure," replied Harry. "I was hoping you or Hermione might be able to help me with it. Or Ginny," added Harry quickly as he noticed Ginny was eyeing him over the top of the parchment. Ginny's attention drifted back to the parchment as she realized she would have a long way to go before her name would be mentioned in the same sentence as Ron's and Hermione's names. As she read over the prophecy for the first time, it piqued her interest. She noted the part about love and thought that that might tie in with what she believed Harry needed to keep Voldemort out of his head. As she finished, Ginny remembered the part about the Heir of Slytherin and the Heir of Gryffindor rising and began to wonder if Harry was the Heir of Gryffindor, but then she remembered what Harry had said about the Sorting Hat giving him a choice between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Why would the Sorting Hat want to put him in Slytherin when he might actually be the Heir of Gryffindor? she thought. "Great," muttered Ginny under her breath as she passed the parchment to Hermione. "More enigmas." "What?" asked Hermione as she overheard Ginny's whisper. "Oh, it's nothing," she answered off-hand and went back to eating her shepherd's pie. Hermione's eyebrows first rose and then constricted together as she read the parchment. She looked at Harry nervously and then buried her face in the parchment. "So, what do you think?" asked Harry. Hermione shook her head. "I can't make heads or tails of it," she replied after a few moments of thought. "I thought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the Heir of Slytherin," said Ron as he noted Hermione's silence. He had read the note once more while looking over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione sighed. "You're right, Ron. Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin, which means this prophecy isn't making much sense." "Well, after all," said Ron, "it is Trelawney we're talking about." "Yeah, but she was dead on two years ago about Voldemort rising and his servant going back to him," countered Harry. "Are you sure she's not putting you on?" asked Hermione. "She acted the same way as the last time. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she began speaking in a different voice. She didn't remember a thing she said and when I read it back to her, she thought it rather silly," said Harry. "That's exactly what happened the last time." "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" asked Hermione. "No," replied Harry. "Fat load of good it did me the last time." Hermione looked nervously at Ron for support. Seeing him more interested in his lunch than the conversation, she kicked him in the shins. "Hey, what was that for?" asked Ron. "Ron, don't you think Harry should take the prophecy to Dumbledore?" she asked, her eyes pleading for Ron's help. "Erm," muttered Ron as he tried thinking of something that would extricate him from the argument that was about to take place between Harry and Hermione. "Well, Dumbledore really hasn't been much help about these things, now has he?" From the look Hermione gave Ron, Harry could tell he hadn't answered her question correctly. He reached over and snatched the parchment from Hermione's hands. "Look, it's probably nothing," said Harry disgustedly as he tried to get Hermione calmed down. "If it turns out to be anything, I'll get it to Dumbledore, okay?" From the look Hermione gave him, Harry could tell she wasn't convinced, but he didn't care. He was still too mad at Dumbledore to talk to him. He figured if worse came to worse, he could always send Hedwig up to him with the news. "So what's the plan for the Quidditch team?" asked Ron as he tried to change the subject. "Everyone who was on it last year is automatically on it this year," replied Harry. "Ginny, we'll put you on as Chaser and reserve Seeker. This will give us a full team and we won't have to bother with tryouts," added Harry. "Besides, everyone on the team is used to one another and we can begin training earlier." "Erm, Harry, that leaves us one short," said Ron. "What?" "Angelina and Alicia both graduated last year," replied Ron. "Bloody hell," muttered Harry as he thought about it for a moment. "I forgot about Alicia. I tell you what – we'll just leave that ‘til Saturday. In the meantime, I want the rest of us to brush up. It's been too long since I've practiced. Ginny, can you and Katie get the word out about the tryout on Saturday? Make sure you tell people you think would work well with you and Katie." "We will," replied Ginny. "So when are we going to start training?" "Tonight," replied Harry. "Tonight?" blurted Ron. "But it's the first week of school." "I figure this will give us a jump on the other teams," replied Harry. "What do you think, Ginny?" asked Harry. "Should we start this week or leave it until next week?" "Tonight, definitely," replied Ginny, anxious to begin putting Hermione's plan to work. "Alright, it's settled then," said Harry. ***** A short while later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves seated once again in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, wondering what their new teacher would be like. From the scuttlebutt they had heard at lunchtime, they knew that Moody would be teaching, but since only first and second years had already had him, they were unsure what to expect. The younger students had reported an introduction much like the imposter Barty Crouch, Jr. had given them two years prior, but given that Barty Crouch had done such a good job teaching them, Harry was unsure if Moody would repeat it. He didn't seem to be the type to repeat anything the class had already learned. As Harry looked over the group, he noticed the class was mostly filled by the large contingent of Gryffindors, who had been paired with the handful of Slytherins taking the advanced class. He groaned. Of all the houses they could have been paired with, someone had paired them with Slytherin. At least Malfoy wasn't there, thought Harry. He was, however, surprised at seeing Pansy Parkinson and a few of the girls she ran with along with Blaise Zabini, who he was not nearly as surprised at seeing. The familiar clunk of Moody's wooden leg distracted him as he looked to the back of the class and watched him enter. The Slytherins appeared to all shrink back a bit as the battered Auror walked through the door, all except Pansy. "Miss Parkinson," muttered Moody curtly and he nodded as he passed her. Harry was a bit surprised by Moody's reaction to Pansy. Moody's face twisted into something trying desperately to resemble a smile as he came up to where the trio sat. "Ron, Hermione," he muttered curtly, nodding in their directions. "Glad to see you in my class, Mr. Potter," he added before taking a seat at the front of the classroom. The twisted mass of scar tissue that passed for a face frowned as Moody looked over the class, his magical eye rotating rapidly around in its socket as if to make note of everyone present and take record of the minutest details. He cleared his throat harshly and paused, his magical eye finally coming to a halt as he began to address the class. "Ordinarily I would begin one of my first classes with a demonstration of the Unforgivables, however, I will not be doing it for this class since it has already been done for your year. It is my understanding that the scum that impersonated me did a very thorough job so we will not be revisiting topics he has already covered. If I am incorrect in my assumption, please let me know." Moody looked over the class and seeing no objections began to speak again. "It is also my understanding that you had the phrase "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" drummed into your heads as well. This is good. We will build on that and go from there. The next phrase I want drummed into your heads is a Colonial Muggle colloquialism." He pointed his wand at a piece of chalk and it began writing, squeaking with every stroke as it made its way across the board. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the noise stopped and Moody turned back around. "SHOOT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!" thundered Moody. "An Auror must react on instinct! Dueling must become second nature because in a duel, there is no time to think and there is no room for failure. Any pause in defending yourself or attacking your opponent could get you killed. Isn't that right, Miss Granger?" Moody paused from his monologue and looked straight at Hermione. "Yes, Professor," replied Hermione. "You must put this into practice," said Moody, getting back into his opening, "especially since you lot will be using non-lethal spells, unlike your opponents, who will be using lethal spells." He paused once again and looked the class over seriously. "Or worse yet, Merlin help you if you are captured by the Death Eaters. Then you will become their evening's entertainment as they torture you to death or perhaps cast an Imperious Curse on you and utilize you in ways I would rather not care to speak of." A snigger from one of the Slytherin girls distracted Moody for a moment. "So you think I'm funny, Miss Bulstrode?" demanded Moody. A hush descended on the class as they wondered what Moody would do to the offending Slytherin. "No, sir," replied the hapless girl. "I would hasten to warn you that Voldemort is just as quick to turn on his followers as he is his enemies," stated Moody in a threatening manner. As Harry watched the group of Slytherin girls, he noticed Pansy's eyes well up with tears. "You Slytherins would do well to keep that in mind," he added in a serious tone of voice. "It has also come to my attention that a group of you formed an illegal defense club last year," stated Moody, changing the subject abruptly. "Would those of you who were in the club please raise your hands?" Another attempt at a smile passed across Moody's face as he watched all the Gryffindor hands rise in the air. "That's twenty points each to Gryffindor and an extra twenty to Miss Granger for convincing Mr. Potter to teach. Proper preparation is the first step in winning a battle! All right, keep them up," he said as he took note of the number of raised hands. "We're going to pair off. The person you're partnered with will be your dueling partner for the duration of the class. Potter, I want you partnered with Parkinson." Harry started at the news. "Longbottom, I want you partnered with Bulstrode," continued Moody as he paired off everyone in the class finally coming down to Ron and Hermione, who he wanted to continue practicing together. "Keep her on her toes, Ron," muttered Moody as he gazed at Harry's friend. Hermione shot Moody a dirty look after he turned back to the rest of the class and began preparing to move the desks and chairs out of the center of the room. "I saw that Granger," Moody said loudly. Hermione blushed in embarrassment. Moody immediately stopped the desks and let them all fall onto the floor. He went over to Ron and Hermione and pulled the two of them together so that only they could hear what he was about to say. "Hermione," began Moody quietly, looking down at her with both his magical and normal eyes, his face unreadable due to all of his scars, "you're one of the brightest witches to ever pass through the gates of Hogwarts. I don't want to lose you to some scumbag Death Eater who's faster on the draw than you are. Do you understand me?" "Yes, Professor," replied Hermione, a bit defeated. "Good," replied Moody as he let go of the two of them and went back to banishing the desks and chairs to the sides of the room. "For those of you who are wondering, I have deliberately paired members of the D.A. with those who were not involved. I expect all of you who were members of the D.A. to assist in instructing those who were not. Harry could tell that none of the Slytherins were pleased with what Moody had said. Pansy gave him an evil look as she began coming to his side of the classroom. As she approached, Harry noticed that she had matured. She was thin, but not too thin and had filled out in all the right places. Her hair, which she had let grow out over the summer, framed a rather attractive face, one that would have qualified for gorgeous, at least in Harry's opinion, except for her nose. He had never liked her nose. Her eyes were dark brown, much like Ginny's, and her lips were painted a striking red. She was well dressed, as were most of the Slytherins, but there was something about her demeanor, which had changed. Somehow, the swagger she had displayed in previous years was gone. Harry was distracted from his evaluation as Moody thundered for Bulstrode and Longbottom to take the first turn at dueling. Harry's eyes turned from Pansy and he began to watch as Neville and Millicent took their positions in the center of the classroom. Millicent had a smug look on her face as she began to attack Neville, but to her and the rest of the Slytherins' surprise, Neville easily blocked her curses and attacked in kind. Millicent found herself slammed up against the back wall in short order, her wand quickly captured by Neville. "Good work, Longbottom," was Moody's only comment. "Potter, Parkinson; you're up next!" Harry nervously made his way to the center of the class, cautiously facing Pansy, feeling totally uncomfortable facing a girl he didn't know. Pansy began firing curses with no warning and without any hesitation. Harry blocked them easily, but failed to make any attempt to attack her. "Potter, what in the name of nine hells do you think you're doing? Attack her for Merlin's sake!" At Moody's encouragement, Harry began to attack her cautiously, still managing to artfully dodge her repertoire of curses. "Dammit, Potter, push her harder," thundered Moody. After being yelled at again, Harry finally increased the level at which he was dueling, taking Pansy out easily with a full body bind. As he looked up, he saw Moody scowling through all of his scars, staring him down. Harry flicked his wand, releasing Pansy from the full body bind. "Just because she's a pretty girl, doesn't mean she won't kill you, Potter!" Pansy quickly stood up after Harry released her from the full body bind. "I have no quarrel with Mr. Potter, Professor," she stated, shocked at Moody's language. "I'm not referring to you, Miss Parkinson," replied Moody sharply as he stared down Harry. "Professor, you know what I did to Bellatrix LeStrange," said Harry darkly as he folded his arms across his chest and glared back at Moody. "Yeah. Come to think about it, we need to work on that," said Moody, eyeing Harry with a severe expression, his magical eye fixed on Harry's face. "You stay after class, Potter." "Erm…" muttered Harry, remembering his conversation with Snape. "Next pair!" thundered Moody. A shocked Ron and Hermione lined up to duel. Ron allowed Hermione to fire the first curse, which he quickly deflected and then began to attack. "Faster!" thundered Moody. "That's more like it!" he shouted as the combat between Ron and Hermione became furious. Harry watched in awe as his friends attacked each other, impressed by how much they had improved since last year. "Faster, Hermione. Stop thinking and just attack!" shouted Moody as he watched her counter Ron's wandsmanship, but fail to attack as often as he did. "So, what did you do to Bellatrix LeStrange?" asked Pansy as she took the side opposite Harry, trying to appear nonchalant as they both watched Ron and Hermione duel. Harry glanced darkly at Pansy, wondering if he should tell her about what happened. Realizing that it would get back to Draco, he decided to go ahead. "I hit her with the Cruciatus Curse during the fight at the Ministry," replied Harry. Pansy appeared momentarily shocked and then composed herself stoically. "It…it didn't do anything to her, did it? I mean, you haven't mastered the Cruciatus. You couldn't have." "Let's just say she wasn't laughing anymore when she pulled herself up off the ground," replied Harry malevolently as he turned his gaze back to the duel. Pansy remained quiet while they watched Ron and Hermione finish dueling, Ron finally taking her out with a series of fast jinxes that wore down her shield. "Excellent job, you two," commented Moody. "Next pair!" Pansy drifted away from Harry, returning to the small cluster of Slytherins after Ron and Hermione came over. "Why the hell did Moody pair you up with that cow?" asked Ron, scowling in Pansy's direction. "Dunno," replied Harry as he watched Blaise Zabini duel with Lavender Brown. A smile appeared on his face as Lavender finally disarmed Blaise. For a while there it looked like the Slytherin might have had her beat. "Next pair!" thundered Moody once again. A feeling of pride and contentment began swelling in Harry's chest as he watched his housemates win round after round against the Slytherins, and even though Ron and Hermione's duel had been between members of the D.A., their duel had lasted far longer than any other. "All right, listen up you lot!" said Moody as he walked into the center of the classroom. "Now that I've got a better idea of what everyone's capabilities are I want all of you to pair off once again en masse and practice dueling with each other. Those of you who were members of the D.A.: I want you to supervise and correct your partners. Now get to it!" Harry smirked as he saw the scowl on Pansy's face as she moved to be with him once again. She took the spot facing him on the opposite side of the classroom. "Are you ready?" asked Harry. "Yes," replied Pansy as she assumed a defensive stance against Harry. Harry quickly fired off a rapid series of hexes and jinxes. There was no hesitation in his manner this time, especially after seeing how quickly and with what little compunction Pansy had attacked him. Moody was right, he mused. Just because she was a pretty girl didn't mean she wouldn't kill him. As he continued attacking Pansy, Harry began correcting her and offering suggestions just as he had taught the members of the D.A., albeit a little less nicely. Pansy resisted Harry's correction, saying he was wrong, until she ended up like Millicent Bulstrode, thrown back against the wall by one of Harry's spells, collapsed to the floor, and her wand resting in his hand. "I told you, Expelliarmus is a very useful spell. You really need to add it to your repertoire." Harry walked over to Pansy, who was rubbing her backside, still lying on the floor. He offered her his hand, which she grudgingly took, and then pulled her up. He looked her in the eyes as he handed her wand back. "Remember, constant vigilance." "All right you lot, that's enough," thundered Moody, bringing all of the dueling to a stop at once. He walked once again to the center of the classroom and looked over his students. "I hope all of you who were not members of the D.A. last year paid attention to what your partners were telling you. We will continue to break down into pairs and practice dueling until the end of the term. All reading is to be done outside of class. If you have any questions about anything in your books, be sure to ask at the beginning of class. You should have chapters one and two read by the start of the next class." "At the beginning of the winter term, we will have a double-elimination dueling competition. That should give everyone an idea of how far their skills have progressed over the course of the first term. We will spend the spring term mastering advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts techniques. Any questions?" Moody looked over his students, but saw that everyone appeared satisfied. "All right, then. Class dismissed. Potter, you stay behind," added Moody quickly as he noticed Harry heading for the door. "What's wrong, Potter?" asked Moody after everyone else had left. Harry swallowed nervously and looked at Moody, apprehensively. "Erm, Professor, I had a long talk with Professor Snape about casting Unforgivables, sir. I'm…I'm not really sure I want to learn how to utilize them." "Snape?" said Moody, somewhat surprised. "Yes, sir." Moody's stare became even more penetrating and nerve wracking. "What did that scoundrel tell you?" "He told me that you have to lose your soul in order to cast them correctly," replied Harry. "Hmm," muttered Moody to himself as he absentmindedly stroked the stubble on his heavily scarred chin. "He's somewhat right. From a purely practical standpoint, what you have to do is focus your hatred on the evil. You have to hate the evil; want to destroy it in the way most appropriate to punishing it." "But what if that evil is a person, sir?" Moody's normal eye all of a sudden appeared dead to Harry as the old Auror placed his right hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, if you'd have seen all the evil I have, you wouldn't find it so hard. I've been fighting the Dark Wizards since I was but three years out of Hogwarts. Had good reason to. Damn Knights of Walpurgis killed my uncle and his whole family. My cousins were naught but five and four years old when it happened to them. I was eleven and just about to start at Hogwarts. I've known what I wanted to do ever since I passed through those gates for the first time." Moody sighed. "Dumbledore warned me that you might not want to learn the Unforgivables. Do me a favor and think about it. If your answer is still ‘no' by the next class, you'd better take my advice to heart. Remember - " "Shoot first," replied Harry. "- and ask questions later," finished Moody as he stared Harry down again. "You watch out for Snape. I don't trust him; never have, never will. I still don't understand what's going on between him and Dumbledore. Not sure I want to know either. Now get out of here, Harry. I know you've got Quidditch practice tonight." Harry breathed a sigh of relief and ran up to the Great Hall where dinner was starting. As he sat down next to Ron, across from Hermione and Ginny, he heard the gentle ringing of a spoon against a wine glass, indicating the students should direct their attention to the staff table. Harry felt the anger rising in his chest as he saw Dumbledore rising at the staff table, a benevolent smile on his face as he began to address the students. "I trust the first day of classes has gone well for everyone, especially you first years, and that all of the rest of you will be just as eager to fill your heads with the wellspring of knowledge that is available to you here at Hogwarts. That said, there is an issue, which needs to be discussed, and since we are all here together, there is no time like the present. Mr. Filch has brought it to my attention that someone appears to be testing prototypical magical firecrackers in the castle. From all indications, the aforementioned firecrackers appear to be of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' manufacture." He paused to look directly at Ron, Harry, and Ginny. "If the culprits are caught, the consequences would be severe." Ginny snickered under Dumbledore's gaze. "That said, everyone tuck in," finished Dumbledore. "S'pose we'll just have to make sure we don't get caught," muttered Ron as he turned look at Harry. Ron started to see the look of rage on his friend's face. "Harry, are you all right?" he asked nervously. "Yeah," muttered Harry, who quickly turned his attention back to his food, desperately trying to force the anger out of his thoughts lest the flickering presence he felt on the edges of his conscious mind became more pronounced. "Are we still on for practice?" asked Ron, trying to get Harry's thoughts off of whatever it was that was making him so angry. "Practice?" asked Harry, somewhat confused. "Oh, yeah," he quickly added, a smile tentatively coming over his features. "Yeah, definitely." ***** "All right, you lot," said Harry. He looked at his hastily assembled Quidditch team seated in the stands on the side of the Quidditch pitch closest to the castle. A light breeze blew through the warm air. It was perfect weather for Quidditch and Harry was determined to enjoy every last second of it. "Here's how it's going to be. We're going to practice every day for the next couple of weeks in order to get the Beaters and Chasers up to speed. It is especially important for you fifth years since you'll be sitting for your O.W.L.s this year and will need to get as much practice in as possible before your homework mounts up. This week we're going to focus on getting used to being on our brooms again and just playing the game. Saturday we'll hold tryouts for the other Chaser position and next week we'll start on strategy. I know Ron's been working out tactics for us all summer, so I'll leave that to him," said Harry with a smirk on his face. "How'd you know I spent all summer working out Quidditch tactics?" asked Ron. Harry laughed gently. "Ron, you've dreamed about playing Quidditch your entire life. How could you not spend all summer on tactics?" Ron shrugged. "Fair enough," he muttered. “Any questions?” asked Harry. Seeing nobody had any, he began again. “For tonight, Ginny and Katie – you will play two on one against Ron after everyone has warmed up. Kirke, Sloper – I want you two to practice batting one of the Bludgers through the Chasers as they go up against Ron. Don't try to take anyone out, just practice hitting around them. "So what are you going to do, Harry?" asked Ron. "Coach. Ginny and I will train for the Seeker’s position after practice." As Harry thought more about that, he found himself looking oddly forward to practicing with Ginny. Having a partner to chase after the Snitch should make Seeker practice much livelier. "All right, let's get cracking." Harry spent most of the early part of practice barking instructions and beginning to worry that he was turning into Oliver Wood. He was pleased to see Ginny easily getting the hang of her position. In his estimation, she was going to make an outstanding Chaser. She worked well with Katie; now it was just a matter of finding another Chaser that would complement them. Ron was coming along well, too, doing an excellent job of guarding the goals against Ginny and Katie. Harry guessed that winning the Quidditch cup had given his confidence a much-needed boost. Kirke and Sloper, on the other hand, had Harry regretting that he had listened to Ginny's advice on giving them another chance. Between the two of them, they had almost knocked Ginny off her broom twice and were making life for Katie dangerous as well. For a brief moment, Harry wished he still had Fred and George on the team. Rather than wallow in self-pity, Harry flew down to the trunk, grabbed an extra bat, and joined the hapless pair hoping that Oliver Wood had been correct in his estimation that Harry would have made a good beater. He took them to the opposite side of the pitch, as far away from the rest of the team as possible, and they began practicing batting the Bludger between the three of them. It was something he remembered having seen Fred and George do and given how good those two were, he thought it might be a good place to start. As they began their practice, Harry was relieved to find that Oliver had been correct – his eyes, trained to search for the elusive golden Snitch, found the Bludger easy to keep track of and he quickly learned to bat the malevolent ball in the general direction he desired. By the end of practice, his aim had become near lethal while Kirke and Sloper had managed to bring their level of play up a notch. "All right everyone, " said Harry after two hours of practice, "I think that's enough for today. I want all of you back on the pitch tomorrow at six o'clock sharp. Any questions?" Seeing everyone was too tired to comment, Harry dismissed his team to go back to the castle. Despite his fatigue, there was a grin on Harry's face that he couldn't suppress. There was something about being on a broom and playing Quidditch that would always bring that smile to his face, no matter what the circumstances. His smile grew a bit as Ginny flew over to him. "So, Ginny, are you up to some Seeker practice or do you want to call it a night?" Ginny smiled a tired, yet eager smile. "I'm ready if you are," she replied. "So, how are you planning to do this?" asked Ginny. "I've been thinking about that," replied Harry thoughtfully. "Follow me," he said and flew quickly down to the floor of the pitch where the trunk containing the Quaffle, the Bludgers, and the Snitch sat. He carefully opened a small door of the trunk and pulled out the Snitch. "Personally, I think the old adage about the best way to learn something is to do it applies." Harry held up the Snitch, watched it flutter its wings for a moment, and then released it. "Give it a bit of a head start." Harry waited patiently for a few moments watching to make sure the Snitch had disappeared from view. "All right; that should do it. After you," he said with a flourish. Ginny jumped on her broom and took off. Harry smiled and took off a moment after her. As he urged his Firebolt to catch up with Ginny, he found himself oddly distracted by her vivid red hair, which had escaped the confines of the red ribbon that had held it in check for the duration of practice. He slowed down for a moment to watch it flutter in the wind and noticed that the butterflies were back in his stomach once again.
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