A week passed, and Harry's life fell into the familiar rhythm that Hogwarts provided. Snape was as foul as ever, Professor McGonagall was still the strictest member on staff, and Flitwick had not grown an inch (not that anyone had expected him to). On the other hand, Malfoy had yet to harass him (although Ron had experienced a nasty spat with him earlier that week) and he still did not trust their new Defense professor. There was just something about the man that made Harry feel uneasy.
As a matter of fact, the Golden Trio was chatting over dinner on that very topic.
"He's too serious," Ron exclaimed through a mouthful of potatoes. "What house do you reckon he was in?"
"Ravenclaw, would be my guess," Hermione offered. "He's extremely intelligent. Maybe Slytherin. He's hard to read, isn't he?"
"Well, he doesn't seem the type to buy into Slytherin propaganda," Ron contradicted.
"You only say that because you can't bear the thought of someone decent belonging to Slytherin," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "What do you think, Harry?"
"Do we even know he went to Hogwarts?"
"You don't have to sound so suspicious." Hermione seemed to have picked up on Harry's hostility towards Professor Nero.
"He's just too…unobtrusive to be harmless."
"That makes absolutely no sense. He's the type to have a completely uninteresting life working a boring desk job with a plain-Jane wife and 2.5 kids. What's there to worry about?" Ron wondered.
"But he's here, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm positive he's hiding something," Harry insisted.
"I think you're just being paranoid," Ron commented before attacking his dinner once more.
Hermione looked thoughtful but didn't say anything, even when Harry gave her a questioning look.
Professor Nero was a firm believer in hands-on learning, so the students in Defense Against the Dark Arts were very enthusiastic about attending class. Where else could they get away with shooting curses at each other for the sake of education? Even Harry had to admit that DADA was the most interesting class on his schedule. But it was in these practical lessons that he began to notice that his magic was harder to control.
He performed the spells exceptionally well, to the point that it was scaring him. He had always known he had a knack for Defense, but he was mastering spells he had never seen on the first try. Desperate to keep the attention off of him, he put all of his concentration onto toning down the power that seemed to rush out of his wand. He spent most of the lessons watching his fellow students as to determine how much he should pull back his ability. It was becoming frustrating, especially as he noticed that this was true for his other subjects as well. (Except potions, which Harry was not the least bit surprised about.) The last thing he wanted was to pique someone's interest in his ability, and Hermione had already started shooting him questioning glances. Perhaps he'd eventually confess to her so she could scoff at him and offer a reason behind the strange development.
The Golden Trio was strolling along the bank of the lake, taking a break from their studies. It was early Saturday afternoon and the grounds looked as peaceful as ever. Hermione had a small tome tucked in her pocket, relaying her impatience at being separated from her assignment.
"I don't understand how you can study for more than an hour at a time, 'Mione," Ron complained.
"Simple. I don't have a pea for a brain," she shot back, clearly annoyed at how Ron had whined until she finally gave into the idea of a break. Harry just rolled his eyes as Ron spluttered a retort.
Out of the corner of his eye Harry spotted unmistakable blonde hair. Malfoy was studying by himself out on the Hogwarts grounds. The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet. It was almost worrisome, although the optimistic part of him rationed that the boy had merely grown tired of their childish rivalry.
As if sensing Harry's gaze, the blonde turned his head, catching Harry's eye. Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement, a faraway look still gracing his features. Malfoy slowly cocked his head before turning back to his studies.
Odd, Harry thought. He had expected more of a reaction. Without warning he headed back to the castle, a sputtering Ron and smug Hermione following suit.
"Mr. Potter, if you would not mind, I would like to speak with you."
Harry was just about to leave the DADA room when his professor called after him. He had no choice but to nod and walk up to Professor Nero's desk.
"This past month I have been …assessing your skills. While I have done my best to treat you equally, I admit, it has been a pleasure to meet you. I cannot help but to acknowledge your skill. You have…impressed me, Mr. Potter, a feat not easily done."
"Professor, I am performing no better or worse than any of my classmates. There's nothing to be impressed with."
"And that's where you're wrong, child. For all that you try to keep the attention averted from you – I can see, Mr. Potter, your capabilities, your power. I do not know to what extent you hide your talent, but from what I have seen…
"I would like to offer you private lessons. Just you and I, to provide a sanctuary where you can release, cultivate, and mature your talent hidden away from the judgmental, jealous eyes of your class mates. Not to mention that I have a well of information that some would die to get a hold of. I might be willing to share a few pieces for the benefit of our world."
Harry was speechless. He was still weary and distrustful of Professor Nero. Especially considering the fiasco with Professor Moody in fifth year. And yet…if his professor was sincere, he could be properly trained by a qualified wizard. It was an opportunity that Dumbledore had neglected him. True, Professor Nero reeked of darkness – the more he studied the man, the more certain Harry was that this man had an unspeakable past – but if he could attain the knowledge he needed and maybe even twist Nero to his use…
"Thank you, Professor. I am honored by the offer and would like to start as soon as possible."