Erik and Harris took their usual seats in History of Magic in the back, where they could doze off without being noticed by the teacher, Professor Smyth, a small, wiry witch who wore large rounded spectacles that made her eyes pop out of her head. She walked out of her study at the front of the room and pulled the heavy oak door shut. Thin strands of white hair fell out of her woolen, pointed hat. "Good morning class," she croaked. "We are now in the modern period of British history, which is defined by the department of education from 1600 to today. We'll cover in more depth muggle witch hunts, the exodus of wizard kind from Britain, Ireland, and Scotland, Goblin revolts..."

Erik's head began to bob up and down until Harris elbowed him.

"there are many parallels between American magical history and British magical history. I expect you all to take many good notes because ancient history is only a fifth of what is covered your exams this year. I will once again stress that these exams determine what your course of study will be for the remaining two years in addition to the careers you may pursue." She paused. "Mr. Erikson and Mr. O'Mara, I expect that you two pay greater attention now if you don't want to be vagabonds."

"Yes, Professor," they answered quietly and alertly.

"Pop question to see if anyone bothered to read," her toadlike voice rose. "Ms. Philpot, please tell the class about the New World Expedition Group and what the purpose of it was?"

Stephanie stammered as she tried to answer the question. She sat three rows in front of him and Erik could see her shifting nervously in her chair. "It was a group of European wizards and witches who...wanted to resettle in America."

The professor eyed her. "You put together an answer from the name of the group. Obviously you didn't read. Mr. O'Mara, wipe the sleepiness out of your eyes and tell me the answer."

Harris had his textbook opened to the chapter on the New World Expedition Group and skimmed it as Stephanie gave her made-up answer. "The New World Expedition Group was a collection of wizards and witches who wanted to resettle in America to escape persecution from Muggles and constant fighting between goblins and other magical creatures."

"Mr. Romero, please add to this pitiful answer."

Marc, who sat next to Stephanie, delivered his answer with his usual timidity. "This group was made up of mostly British, Scottish, Dutch, French, and German wizards and witches including the infamous William Carrington who founded our school. Spanish and Portuguese wizard-kind successfully settled in the New World decades beforehand away from muggle influence and their communities thrived. The first meeting convened in 1597 to go over the specifics on founding a community, but many scoffed at the idea. Carrington and his British followers didn't go to America until 1625 and even then they didn't live apart from the Muggles. They actually settled in the Middle Plantation of Virginia."

"Thank you, Mr. Romero for your thorough answer. It pleases me that you paid attention in American history class, but this is British history and we focus on the British."

Marc turned around dumbfounded. Harris shook his head in support of him.

"Mrs. Smith must of drank bitter draught this morning with breakfast, because she's mean," Erik remarked angrily.

"At least you didn't have to answer her question," Harris replied.

Mrs. Smith dropped her vellum-bound notes on the lectern, which landed with an unexpected thud. "Quills should be scratching furiously on your parchment. Expect several feet of notes."

For once, Erik did not fall asleep.

After a ten minute break, Erik and Harris, fatigued from writing so much, arrived to their favorite class Defense against the Dark Arts. Not only did they use unique spells, learn about dangerous creatures, and duel each other, but their professor had a knack for storytelling. Professor Eisenberg, a former Auror, diplomat, and codebreaker, travelled around the world for many years investigating, fighting, and enjoying the hospitality of foreigners. Retiring from public service after barely escaping from Lord Voldemort, he decided that telling his stories of fantastic stories of danger and intrigue to impressionable students would satisfy his lust for adventure.

They walked into the classroom expecting to see a stout, muscular German with a handsome face and friendly blue eyes; instead they met a short, blond man sorting a mess of papers on the desk. He didn't even raise his head to see the confused students watching him with interest. Only when the bell did he even notice his surroundings. "Class has started. Sit!" he grunted. He took his wand, flicked it, and the door slammed shut and locked. No one dared speak. "I understand that this class is made up of Phoenix and the Ekundayo houses. I used to be a member of the Phoenix house when I studied here at Carrington. We were haughty, boorish, and stubborn. I doubt much has changed."

"Who are you?" a Ekundayo boy asked.

"I didn't ask for questions," the professor responded gruffly. He scratched his unshaven face. "You must be an Ekundayo: nosy, loud, quarrelsome. Don't ask questions. Listen. It'll be hard for each and every one of you. Phoenixes and Ekundayos are known for not listening. Being successful at defending yourselves against dark sorcerers requires silence. Thinking."

As the professor spoke, Erik slipped Harris a note.

He looks familiar. I don't trust him.

Harris scratched something down on the thin parchment and returned it.

I've seen him in an old Eagle Post. He's a former Death Eater. Can't remember his name.

The man walked around his classroom, glancing at each student and each student stared at him curiously. Erik hid the note, just as he walked past him. "My name is Professor Dirk Dawlings. A '77 graduate of Carrington Academy, '85 graduate of the International Institute of Magic in Paris. I fought the remaining Death Eaters after the fall of the Dark Lord with the National Security Group, then I helped the Brazilian magical government set up their intelligence center in Sao Paolo, and just last year, I investigated the Deveraux Scandal for the International Confederation of Wizardry. I am very well travelled and educated on all things dark being that I'm so young. I know lots of magic having learned from the best including Professor Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School and President of the Magical Congress, Mr. Richard Adler. I do not wish to scare you, but I even learned some magic from the Dark Lord himself.

Several students gasped.

"Do not be scared. I am one of the best people in the world to teach this class just like Professor Eisenberg. Not even Hogwarts or Salem Institute can boost that they have such great teachers like us to teach a defense class." He chuckled to himself. "By the way, Professor Eisenberg is gone on a special assignment for the Congress. He has been requesting something like this for a while now. I guess teaching has bored him – he's always been fond of adventure, even in his old age. So I will be teaching you everything I know. The format of the class will change. If you did your homework, good for you. I'm not concerned about the magical properties of creatures. That is something for your Care of Creatures class. Fifth years need to learn about fighting and defending against despots.

"Wands will always be on your desks within an inch of your hand. Parchment, ink, and quill will always be needed as you will be writing often. Scribble as quickly as possible all curses and all known counter curses. Your answers will be weighed against your classmates and houses. Phoenixes make me proud!" He shook his fist. "Begin!"

"How many did you get to write down?" Harris asked Erik.

"I don't know, like ten curses and seven counter curses," Erik replied.

"I got thirteen curses and eight counter curses." Harris smiled a bit.

Erik shrugged. "I'm unsure about how he's going to grade. How many would be for an A?"

Two fourth years muttered something about the curious new professor. "He knows about the Deveraux Scandal," one said.

"What do you think of him?" Harris asked.

Erik thought about him. His peculiar nature, his short stature but intimidating manners. With a sudden revelation, Erik cried, "Dawlings! He's a Death Eater. He worked with Paul Byson. That bastard killed my father." His muscles tightened and his thin mouth became taut with anger. "I'm going to kill him." He drew his wand and raced down the hallway toward the classroom.

Harris chased after him. "Let's think about this, Erik." He pinned Erik against the wall.

He panted heavily, "He killed my dad. I've got to take my revenge."

"You're not making sense."

"Let me go," Erik hollered.

Harris released him. "Listen to me. Accusing Prof. Dawlings of killing your father isn't the best idea. You've got to be smart about this. We've got to check him out."

"Where's Prof. Eisenberg? Why is that man here?"

"Hey guys," Stephanie interrupted. She stopped speaking when she saw Erik's sweaty face and tense eyes. "What's wrong, Erik? Why are you sweating so much?"

Harris glared, "Why do you care Stephanie?"

"I'm concerned about my friends." Her face beamed. "Plus I got some great news that'll cheer Erik up anyway."

She waited for a gasp of anticipation that never came. The boys only looked at her.

Her excitement wasn't diminished though. "My mother just sent an eagle telling me that I'm going to London for the holidays! Well, not exactly London, but to my Aunt's house in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Why would that cheer me up?" Erik asked perturbed. His white blond hair fell over his eyes. He combed it back with his fingers.

Stephanie played with one of her french braids that were now neatly hanging down her back. "I get to invite anybody that I want. So I'm inviting the both of you, Lana, David, and Marc with me to meet my cousin. I think that we'll be able to come up with better ways to fight dark forces."

"I'm not apart of this club," Harris stated. "I won't ever be apart of this stupid club."

Her smile did not waver. "Erik, please tell your mother and step-father that we'll be leaving by magic carpet on December 27th. If you want to, I'll have my mother contact yours."

Erik stuttered.

"Sounds like a plan. By the way, I'll see you tonight in the charms classroom at seven. We're having an officer's meeting."

"Uh," he barely uttered.

She skipped off excitedly.

"Why do you let her control you, man?" Harris shook his head. "I swear she's cursed you. Maybe you can ask Prof. Dawlings about a counter curse."

Erik grumbled then stomped off.

"Erik!" Harris called after him. "Erik!"

But he just kept walking until he got to the next class, Professor Donaldson's potions class.

He sat this time in the front next to a student in the Hino house. He recognized the redhead girl from the first meeting. He couldn't remember her name, but knew her by her thick, long hair, attractive green eyes, and slender, long fingers. He had an urge to touch them and hold them in his hands. But he resisted his desire and scooted his chair away from hers.

"Did you see the fight between Stephanie and Monica this morning?" she asked.

"I didn't," he responded shyly. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I just heard that Monica kicked Stephanie's ass."

"Ms. Edwards, I don't want to hear that kind of language in my classroom," Prof. Donaldson sternly warned. "Next time, it'll be a detention."

The last of the students filed in and took their seats quickly. The classroom settled down. "I have some warnings for you," she announced, placing her chubby hands on her rotund hips hidden under her frumpy robe. "First announcement is only for the Phoenix house. If there is ever any physical altercations in my house, the fighters will be automatically suspended for a month. Why is your hand up Mr. Warrenton?"

"I have a question," David said. "What about dueling?"

"Physical altercations are different from dueling. At least you are practicing what you are learning. Those concerns will handled on a case by case basis. But physically fighting will not tolerated. Next announcement is for everyone. The department of education headed by the Honorable Brutus Brown decided in light of the events happening internationally that all magical schools must be under tighter control. Therefore, all meetings of more than two students must be registered by the school and approved by the department. As of today, there are twelve student groups recognized including the Dueling Club, Quidditch teams, and Longball. The complete list is in the dining hall." She flicked her wand and all of the curtains drew on all of the rose-colored Gothic windows. The only light came from the candelabra and the candles on the long wooden tables. "I have already sent my letter of contempt to the Mr. Brown and I suggest that you all too." She flicked her wand again toward the chalkboard. On it, instructions for Intelligensia Potion. "What exactly is this potion?"

Prof. Donaldson pointed to someone and a familiar voice responded, "This potion sharpens the wit of anyone who drinks it, but if it's made incorrectly then the drinker loses his humor."

"Correct, Ms. Philpot," Prof. Donaldson said. "Five points to the Phoenix house. That should make up for the one hundred lost from this morning. Please take out your cauldron and gather your ingredients from the store room."

Commotion rose as students rushed to the little room on the left, gathering what they need. Erik avoided both the overly enthusiastic Stephanie and the melancholy Harris. He took the supplies he needed and returned to his seat. He smiled at his table mate as he lit the fire under the cauldron and she smiled back coquettishly. His heart fluttered at bit; he tried to keep his concentration, cutting up his liverrot, but his eyes kept jumping over to her pretty hands slicing the smelly nsanti root.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Audrey Edwards."

"That's a pretty name. I'm Erik Erikson." He twitched.

She obviously noticed the twitch and smiled. "I know."