As the conversations began flowing wildly again, all focusing on the single student draped at the headmaster's table, the Potter group began to converse as well amongst themselves.

"Is she really that powerful? All we saw her do was paralyze me and that was by physical means, right guys?" and unsure Weasley commented, glancing warily at the headmaster's table.

The three huddled together as Hermione leaned across the table and whispered, "I can tell she's powerful. Dumbledore wouldn't have hired an idiot…..again."

A confused expression spread across Ron's face before Hermione rolled her eyes murmuring, "Lockhart"

"Oh…."

Chancing another glance at the new teacher, Harry returned, "There certainly is something strange about her. She seems burdened but still well able to hide it. She almost looks sad."

Ron began to glare at the table growling, "I didn't see her name in the list of mourning families." Shifting his glare to one of his biscuits, he latched onto it and began tearing into it, continuing with his mouth full, "I didn't see that Rin's name in the list either."

"RON!!!! You're heartless!" Hermione exclaimed quietly, "You didn't have to be on the list to know some of those people!"

Harry sighed, turning away from his two bickering friends to stare at the mysterious Rin.

---

Black bondage pants, a black shirt with blood red writing that continually changed it's wording, coupled with a pair of nice dragon hide boots adorned the girl that somehow had caught his gaze. Her long brown to near raven colored hair dipped down to hide her face at times, covering her left eyebrow stud as her image seemed to suck out the light around her, making her spot at the Ravenclaw table both the lightest at times and the darkest at others. Sensing a curious stare, she tilted her head in his direction, fixating Harry with a chilling stare.

Their eyes connected just seconds before a screech sounded from beside her.

"AAHHHHHH!!!!!!!" Screamed Cho, as she jumped from her spot beside Rin. "That little first year tossed grape juice all over my new robe!"

The girl seemed to smirk before turning to the commotion at her table intent on ignoring the Potter boy.

---

In that brief moment, Harry had felt his heart race and he involuntarily shuddered. He knew what this feeling was. He'd had it before, but somehow, that girl had caused it. He averted his eyes and turned back to his table, too disturbed to mention what had happened to his friends.

---

As the feast slowly came to a halt, the overstuffed students patted their belly's and settled into the normal, quiet conversations they had been talking for years whether it was the most recent Quidditch statistics for the new year, new politics, new boys or the latest rumor, fresh off the train.

Albus Dumbledore stood up, stretching slightly, allowing his back to go into a series of pops before standing afore the student body.

"As you all know the rules of Hogwarts, and the ones that don't will see their Head Boy or Girl about it, I see no need to stand here repeating words you have already grown bored of. Instead, I shall leave you all with a warning, in the light of Voldemort's return, only fifth year students and up shall be able to go to Hogsmeade. I have raised the requirements this year because I feel only the fifth years and older shall be able to adequately defend themselves if an attack were to occur at that time. Look not where you are, but where you are going. Not who you are with but to whom they are. Find not a path, but the road you were already walking on. That will be all. Your house prefects will guide you to your commonrooms and introduce you to your new home. Our two new students will also follow their prefects to their commonrooms for their own individual room assignments. Be up bright and early for classes tomorrow. Dismissed."

The students jostled each other and began to file out of the Great Hall. Harry glanced back at Hermione one last time, guiding a mob of first years towards the Gryffindor commonroom. Staring wistfully after her, it wasn't until a raven haired beauty elbowed him in the back that he even bothered moving.

"Harry Potter, I hope you enjoyed your summer," Cho smiled sweetly.

His gaze darkening, Harry turned towards the staircases and before rushing off mentioned, "Yeah… It was…fun."

Deep blue eyes followed his ascent as the pretty girl smirked to herself.

---

Another dreary day drizzled by as Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students filed into Defense class. Some looked forward to the new lesson, and others did not, knowing the challenge awaiting them, and feeling that ultimately, they were to fail anyways. As Harry, Hermione and Ron filed into the class, a dark shadow slid in the door right as the new teacher glanced up from a seemingly lost reverie. There she was. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, standing with her back to her students staring out at seemingly endless mists of rain and drizzle threatening to envelope the school. Turning, with a look of complete indifference but still with an aura of thought surrounding her, she greeted the class, formally and quickly.

"Good morning class. I see you have all made it to your first Dark Arts lesson under me."

Harry's eyes lit up with anger as he quickly interjected, "This is defense! Not the Dark Arts!"

The Defense professor, Arista narrowed her eyes at the interruption and coldly stared at this upstart as the class around them shuffled uncomfortably in the new atmosphere. The young teacher then simply stated, "Ah. But it IS one and the same. You see, to fight the Dark Arts you must also know the Dark Arts yourself. Otherwise, how else would you know how to defend yourself against something you do not understand?" She spoke her words with an incredible degree of understanding, yet it was obvious she was holding back on a more patronizing tone. "You fight curse with curse young Potter. Remember that." She then straightened up and faced the class as a whole again. Her face was impassive, much like a drone yet she said in a cheery voice, "And we've all hexed someone or another at one point in time so I guess we've all used the Dark Arts for our own selfish, petty reasons." Though her voice was uplifting, her eyes were cold, and the few students who managed to choke a laugh out quickly silenced themselves.

'I don't like her. She's up to something. I just know it. Why would Dumbledore put someone like her in charge of the DA?'

By this time, the young woman had cleared the head of the classroom and was steadily streaming information into many students' already tired ears. "Today, I am going to judge your skills in the Dark Arts. At this point in time you should be at certain levels, but I sincerely doubt that you have cleared the basic concepts you should have learned last year. Now, I understand that not everyone is capable of increasing to the same levels at the same rate as every other person in this room. That is why we are all individuals." Then smiling smugly she said triumphantly, "And that is why I am the teacher." Her smile widened even more as the realization washed upon her again. It was all Harry could do to keep from rolling his eyes in contempt.

A few stifled groans, the loudest from the Asian shadow in the back, rippled through the classroom as others grabbed their foreheads in anticipation of a feminine "Lockhart speech." Almost expecting a mirror to suddenly pop up in front of the young narcisstic witch, they were surprised when she instead picked her wand from its perch upon her hip and pointed to a spot opposite on the wall. Then murmuring words just softly enough not to be heard, she reached into her pocket and drew out a small ball of black lint. Within seconds, two small antennae popped out of the fuzz and it began to take shape. Holding the black fuzz closely, she softly whispered, "Ok, Pete. You know what to do." With those words, the fuzz took off scurrying up her arm and then down her frame only to scurry across the floor and climb to hang loosely from the wall.

"Form up!" She shouted morphing the tone she exuded into somewhat of a drill sergeant's demeanor. "I want two lines! The objective of this exercise is merely to hit my little friend with any spell you can manage."

As the class jumped for the newly forming lines, she continued to order them about, "One at a time! I'll be watching you." Turning to the window she added, "Oh. And one more thing. No one leaves until someone lands a hit. No exceptions. Capiche?"

"Oh, but Rin?" She seemed to add as an afterthought, "You are exempt from this exercise. I already understand your potential." As the dark 7th year glided toward the exit she was bogged down by a sudden on flow of papers. "Deliver all of my homework and you're free from my class today." As the first witch grinned smugly, the 7th year attempted to glare through the stack of papers weighting her down, however difficult it clearly was to even see around them. "Oh, that's all of it for the next month. Try not to lose any."

A single growl was heard as the girl staggered out of the classroom, muttering something indiscernible under her breath.

Staring out the window at the foggy view, Arista could hear spell after spell after spell spoken, and not one managed to hit Pete. Even the young wizard Harry Potter was showing himself to be rather inept as depressing as it was. After an hour of repeated failures on almost all sides, class still continued. Suddenly, a single spell was cast and a little scared squeak sounded from the middle of the room along with shattering glass.

Spinning around, the young witch turned just in time to see a fuzzy blur zooming for the bookshelf as Neville Longbottom broke down in tears as a shard of glass stuck out of his leg at an angle having fallen from the window from whence his misguided spell had shattered. The rest of the class had broke for cover leaving Neville to his wearisome self. Seeing his pain and loneliness, her face filled with compassion and she slowly approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Class. Continue. Neville. Come with me."

"Ooh! Busted! Ooh!" The mocking words immediately spouted out of nearly every student's lips.

As the taunting class regrouped and resumed the exercise, Neville limped to the back to the window alone. Looking up at his tears and then down at his leg, she said, "Don't move, Kay?"

He nodded slowly but made the mistake of looking down to find her yanking the chunk from his leg. Opening his mouth to yell in pain and horror, he suddenly found himself unable to speak. "I told you not to move……" The witch said in a low and irritated voice. "Are all of you British people that hard of hearing? Or is it that you just don't feel like obeying?" As renewed tears of pain sprung to his face, her stare softened and she put her hand on his shoulder again. "Neville. This is nothing. Once, when I was little I got a piece of glass stuck in my heel. True it only the size of a knutz but it was deep and I tenderized it long before the healers ever got near me. I had one tear. And you cry so many for such a small cut." She rolled her eyes at him as his tears continued to pour out.

She turned her head to look back at the class scaring many of the more curious ones, Potter's group included. Still, many would glance over in an attempted casual way once attempting their own spells and moving towards the back of the line. The young witch Arista shook her head and turned her attention back to Neville. The rest of the class would get what was coming to them.

Finally finding his voice again Neville began to wail, "Why does it always happen to me? Why……"

Narrowing her eyes she bade him to sit as she conjured bandages to cover his wound. "Neville, there is something you need to know." She said rather matter-of-factly, as would become her general tone for the rest of the school year. "Has anyone ever told you of 'The Wizard's Golden Rule?' It's sometimes referred to as 'Trelock's Rule."

Wiping his eyes he slowly shook his head before she continued. "The rule itself states that no matter how great a task, faith is the one component required to make it work." Looking back at him before resuming her stare out the window, she softly asked, "Do you understand what that means?"

Neville Longbottom appeared to be deep in thought before answering, "Uh-uh…."

Sighing deeply she turned back to him, looked him straight in the eyes and said firmly, "Neville…." Then a sudden look crossed her face as her eyebrow twitched, "I'm gonna call you Clay from now on." Her voice had a strange semi-southern accent to it, and sounded much deeper than previously.

"But…"

"You have so much potential. And like clay, I will mold you and so from now on, you are Clay." She stared hard at him and took a deep breath. Changing back to a smile she softly continued. "Clay. YOU will be a great wizard one day. NEVER let anyone tell you otherwise." Her eyes seemed to pierce his soul for a moment before she said, "Belief in yourself is what you lack. If only you would believe that you can do these things. If only you would believe that you are great at magic. If only you believed that nothing is impossible for you, nothing will stop you, BECAUSE you believe."

"But, everyone else…" he sniffled.

"Everyone else does not exist within your realm of magic. Belief is all you require. Unwavering. Undoubting." She shook her head. "Never doubt yourself for that will always lead you to failure. Understand now?"

"I think I do." He said shakily, though it was clear that he just wanted to get up and away.

Sighing again she grabbed his hand and pulled him to standing. "Then go over there and hit Pete with all you've got! I mean…believe and you will succeed!" She nodded vigorously at him and pointed in a very set way towards Pete and Penelope. His eyes flickering about conveyed that he was taking all her words in. He took a deep breath and to Harry's own amazement a miracle happened.

---

Four hours later….

Rin Peters sat alone at the Ravenclaw table staring across towards the Gryffindor table where a mess of Gryffindor sixth years should have been. Only Neville Longbottom seemed to be dining that evening and in strangely high spirits, considering all the derision and scorn she had noted he generally received from both housemates and those in other commons. "So, Neville." She spoke up, testing the waters for conversation. "Where is everybody? They're missing dinner, and dinner…" she paused for the dramatic effect, "IS a big thing around here" She took a deep breath and finished, "….no grocery stores, or restaraunts….fast food…."

To her surprise, he answered her acting as if he had known her from the beginning as a chum. This, she felt, would have to change. "It's Clay now." He responded, "and they're still trying to hit Penelope. I sort of…" he scrounged up his face a little trying to fish out the right word, "knocked Pete out of action with a Chandre charm…"

She snickered knowingly with Clay's hearty laugh, as they both sat beneath the clear starry sky, alone at two tables which normally would have been crawling with hungry students pilfering the bowls in order to get an extra bite before bed. "You are not what your friends have led me to believe of you…" she started as she began to dig a little more into his past at Hogwarts. It would prove to be a most enlightening tale, full of the many tidbits she had been hoping to score on her mark.

---