Chapter 4: Class

Suspicion is the beginning of wisdom, and of madness.

– Mason Cooley

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Breakfast on September the second was a busy affair, as Heads of Houses handed out timetables and exchanged quick words with students whom they hadn't seen since June. Harry, however, picked at his food in silence. Nervousness was setting into him for the first time since the whole plan had been hatched as he contemplated what he would be teaching his classes today—and, indeed, who was in those classes.

There are no such things as coincidences, Dumbledore had said. "What about irony?" Harry asked moodily of his eggs Benedict. The first class of his first day of teaching was none other than Seventh Year Gryffindors.

"Harry Exx!" a too-jolly—and far too familiar—voice thundered in his ear. Not much made Harry jump anymore, but plenty annoyed him. Scowling slightly, he turned in his chair to face Horace Slughorn, who had plopped his massive self down into the vacant seat next to him. Harry was sure he heard the chair groan ominously.

"Professor Slughorn, correct?" he said politely nonetheless, offering his hand. They shook.

"Horace, please, my boy! You are still young enough to be 'my boy', aren't you?" he added, squinting at his younger colleague.

"I'd prefer Harry," he responded coolly. He was not in the mood for Slughorn. Had he ever been? he wondered as he rose abruptly. "I'm sorry, er, Horace, but I really must go. First day teaching…you understand…"

"Certainly," said Slughorn, not bothering to stand as well in favor of the spiced Italian sausages he had just spotted behind the croissants. "Ah…good luck…"

Harry said nothing; he was already halfway down the aisle between the staff table and the Great Hall doors. Over at the Gryffindor table, Peter Pettigrew, who'd been assigned the duty of watchman, prodded James sharply.

"There he goes!" he hissed, his watery, beady eyes flitting between the retreating form of his professor and his friend in clear hopes of praise.

"How'd you know he'd leave early, Prongs?" said Remus.

"Magic," James answered, clearly preoccupied with watching Professor Exx's exit. "Er—figuratively speaking, that is. Ah…intuition, I guess…He's gone! Right, Sirius. Ready?"

"Am I ready?" spluttered Sirius dramatically. "Me? Sirius Black? Marauder? Animagi? And you ask me if I'm ready?"

James rolled his eyes. "Look mean, then, Padfoot my mangy cur! You know…show some fang…some slobber…though that shouldn't be too hard to come by if you're stalking a bloke…"

"The insolence!" cried Sirius. "I'll have you know, Prongs, that it's only the second day back and already two girls have told me the new password for the Prefects' bathroom. Honestly, why Dumbledore didn't just make me one to start with, I'll never know…"

"Yes, well, while you're monologuing the target is getting away. I can't believe you're passing up a chance to prank—"

"—to gloat about girls? Anytime, mate!" But he stood and began to follow the new professor even as he spoke. "Bring my bag to Defense, hey?" he called over his shoulder.

James waved his acquiescence and returned to his breakfast. It wasn't long, though, before he became aware of a significant presence standing behind him. He twisted in his seat and grinned broadly; it was Lily. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, she was already talking—but not to him.

"Hey, Remus. Want to come see the Head rooms? Professor McGonagall just gave me the password."

There were so many things wrong with that string of sentences that James spluttered disbelievingly. "Exscuse me?" he yelped. "I believe I'm the Head Boy. And McGonagall gave you the password but not me? What is this? This is—"

"He whines worse than my sister," said Lily contemptuously to Remus, who snorted. "Come along, I suppose. The password's Studious, anyways."

"I wonder if there's a hint in that," said Remus.

Lily laughed, a little louder than necessary. "For whom, I wonder?"

"Ha, ha," grumbled James. "And anyways, there's only twenty minutes until class. If I've learned anything at Hogwarts, it's never to cut explorations short."

"When did you learn that?" said Lily. "No—don't tell me. I don't want to know. Very well, I'll go during lunch." And she wandered on down the table to speak with a lonely-looking first-year girl.

"Ha!" cried James. "If I know Lily—"

Remus snorted. James glared.

"If I know Lily," he repeated, sharply, "then she'll be going after school, not during lunch! She's trying to trick me! A false trail! She's—"

"—a devilish yet very sexy little minx whose devious wit and astounding intelligence draw you further into her seductive charm with every passing day? So I've heard. Now eat your breakfast."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

One of Sirius's many little-known talents was stalking. He was unsure which came first, the Animagi form or the aptitude for following others without their knowledge, but he tried to make a practice of not using it. For pranks like this, however, it came in very handy.

Harry Exx walked about fifty feet ahead of him, appearing to be deep in thought. Sirius grinned, checked behind him, then dodged through a little-used door. When he emerged a moment later, it was as a black bear-sized dog with enormous ivory teeth and yellow eyes that bore a startling resemblance to the Grimm—something he was about to utilize. He growled experimentally, then loped silently ahead to close the distance between him and his professor.

Barely six inches behind him, Sirius crept closer still and breathed hard on Harry's ankles. When the man turned, as expected, he crouched low and snarled, feeling hot white saliva dribbling from his jaws in strings.

Exx's eyes narrowed. Sirius gave a quick lunge forwards, snapping his teeth together a bare inch from his professor's hand, and then feinted swiftly backwards again, growling.

"I have two options before me," said Exx, far too conversationally for a man who could be mauled at any moment by a vicious bear-sized beast. "Act scared, and allow you to feel that your prank was a complete success, or else give a good dozen detentions—not that you'd ever be able to serve them, if Dumbledore knew there was an unregistered Animagus at Hogwarts."

Sirius's growl died immediately. He sat down hard.

"Or, perhaps, a third option: congratulate you on an original idea, your astounding achievement at such a young age, and have you be intimidated by me. On second thought," he mused, "scratch the last one. I don't think intimidation would become you." He laughed.

Sirius cocked his head.

"Yes, yes. Listen, it was a good attempt. I'm just well-versed in Animagi. I'll see you in—" he checked his slightly battered gold watch "—fifteen minutes."

And he turned and strode away, leaving a greatly bemused Sirius Black sitting in the hallway with just one thought reverberating in his head: Oh shit.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Sirius skulked outside the Great Hall doorways, unwilling to go inside in case Professor Exx had returned to finish his breakfast. The moment James emerged, he grabbed his arm and drew him roughly from the crowd, Remus and Peter following behind.

"Well? How'd it go?" said James expectantly. "Here's your bag, by the way."

Sirius didn't take it. "He knows," he hissed; he sounded panicked, his hand gestures were frantic, and he was glancing around too much. "He knew I was an Animagi right away—no, wait, he said he might not do anything about it—oh, shit. James, I think he knew who I was too—he said he'd meet me in twenty minutes, and he knows I have Defense first period, doesn't he? This is a disaster. What if Dumbledore finds out? We'll be expelled, and he knew it—he hinted he might tell him—"

"Sirius!" James cut across him sharply, and threw the incoherently squeaking Peter a silencing look. "Relax. Look, he was probably just making educated guesses. If he doesn't believe in the Grimm and there's no dogs at Hogwarts, he'd obviously assume you're an Animagi, right? And it could only be an older student—you know how long it took us. And it would have to be either a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff's wouldn't dare break the rules so much and Slytherin's don't have the brains… He was just grasping at straws, okay? Just...go to class, and act normal. Alright?"

Sirius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Right. Okay. Sure…"

"We're going to be late!" said Remus. "Just keep on his good side, you three."

They hurried along to class, Sirius finally taking his bag. "Another thing," said Sirius. "I just noticed this morning; he must've been too far away before. This Exx bloke—he looks a lot like you, James."

James frowned, but didn't have the time to say anything in return. They'd reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts room and swept inside, only to see that the entire rest of the class was there, including the teacher. They'd been late probably hundreds of times in the past six years, but this time, nerves high-strung as they were, they froze guiltily in the doorway.

"Relax," said Harry, grinning. "You still have time—take a seat."

Only Remus didn't wince. The only seats left were three directly in front of the teacher, and one off to itself in the very back corner, where a spider had built a nest from the chair to a curtain. Peter, naturally, was shunted to that one.

Harry watched all this with a critical eye. Peter, he thought with distaste, looked downright—well, distasteful. He quite glad that he was seated as far from him as possible and that the four he most wanted to see were closest—Lily always sat towards the front and, to her very evident chagrin, this arrangement had found her next to James.

"Excellent," he said, once everyone was settled. "My name, as you know, is Professor Harry Exx. Ah…I've had a good bit of teaching experience, but nothing to formal as this. Today, we'll be learning about—Animagi!" He grinned at James and Sirius, seated side by side. They met his gaze unflinchingly; clearly, they had more guts than he'd originally assumed. "Kidding," he said. "No, today's lesson will be a review. We're going to be practicing five of the most useful spells employed in the defense against the dark arts. They're fairly simple ones, but their value cannot be underestimated. Or, in the case of your enemies, overestimated. Can anyone offer me an idea of what one might be?"

Three or four students raised their hands. "Yes, Lily?"

"Stupefy?"

It was the first time he'd heard her voice spoken from her living body that he could remember. He smiled. "Very good. Stupefy is a stunning spell; it immobilizes anyone or anything hit by it."

"But that's fifth-year stuff!" a student seated towards the back said. "Who would use that against a Death Eater?"

"I would," said Harry coolly, "and I have. If it's fifth year stuff, come to the front of the class and demonstrate, if you will. What's your name?"

"Max Lalonde," the boy said sulkily, rising and coming, clearly unwillingly, towards his professor. Harry, meanwhile, drew a clear box from a drawer in his desk; it contained a half-dozen large, black spiders, an idea given to him by Mad-Eye Moody, or the impostor of him. Deftly, he lifted the lid and caught one by its hind leg, placing it on the empty table at the front of the class but maintaining his grip.

"You'll need you're wand for this, Mr. Lalonde," said Harry; the class snickered.

Scowling all the more, Max drew his; it was unusually short. Harry released the spider.

"Stupefy!" Max yelled. Immediately, Harry saw several problems. His aim was off; his pronunciation was too guttural; the beam of light was too thin and too dark a red. The spell burnt a cigarette-like hole in the table some three inches to the left of the intended target. Harry scooped up the spider and replaced it in the box.

"You're saying it wrong," he said immediately. "It's Stupefy, see, you're putting too much emphasis on the fy. And you're gripping your wand wrong; you have to whip a bit, like this." He drew his own wand and demonstrated. "Your aim was off, too. Now, watch." He withdrew the spider for a second time, placed it on the table again, and said, clearly, "Stupefy!"

The spider, which had been attempting to scuttle away, froze immediately and keeled over.

"Renervate," he murmured. "Try again," he instructed Max.

"Stupefy!" the student said for the second time. This time, the spider froze, but only for a few seconds.

Harry put it back with its fellows and then studied Max shrewdly. "You have an excellent sense of correction," he said. "That was a very good second attempt."

Max returned to his seat.

"Are there any other spells? Yes—ah—"

"Remus Lupin. Protego?"

"Yes. Protego is a shield spell; it blocks and, if made correctly, returns enemy spells. Now—ah—James, try to jinx me."

"Gladly, Professor," said James, grinning broadly. He rose, drew his wand, and stood at the ready. Then, though he didn't speak, there was a sudden flash of light.

"Protego!" yelled Harry; the force of his Shield Charm caused the hair of the students in the first row to stand on end. James was suddenly hanging upside down in the air as though suspended by one leg. The class roared with laughter.

Harry performed the countercurse. "Clever, Mr. Potter," he said once James, looking significantly more rumpled, had regained his feet. "Nonverbal will be reviewed in detail this year, by the way. Can anyone say what might have given James here away?"

"The light?" said the boy next to Max sarcastically, but Lily raised her hand again.

"Legilimency?"

"Legilimency, yes. It's an art, a sort of wandless magic, that can be developed with practice and perseverance. It allows a witch or wizard to read their opponent's mind and predict the spell they will use—even a nonverbal one, as demonstrated with Mr. Potter—and react suitably."

"And you can do this—thing?" said James, shooting Sirius a meaningful look.

"A little. I've never been much good at it. Now, back to spells…no one?" he surveyed the class skeptically, and then grinned. "I won't call you lot scared—I know the reputation of Gryffindors—but come on…"

"Reducto?" said Sirius, without bothering to raise his hand.

"That is indeed one, Mr. Black. The Reductor Curse destroys whatever it comes in contact with; the stronger the spell, the more damage done. Care to demonstrate? On the table, please, not a spider."

"Certainly," said Sirius, without any of Max's reservations.

His spell was faultless; Harry complimented on the utter destruction of the table, his wand movement, and his confidence.

"Although overconfidence can certainly cause a good deal of harm, confidence, as I'm sure you all have learned by now, is a necessary part of spellwork," he told the class. "Any other volunteers?"

There were none. Harry, sighing deeply, told them. "We have, so far, Stupefy, Protego,and Reducto. There is also the Impedimenta Curse and the Expelliarmus Charm. Yes, yes," he said to the outcry at the simplicity at the latter, "I know everyone thinks that the Expelliarmus Charm is ridiculously simple. It has also saved my life more times than I like to think of." He glanced at his watch. "Class is nearly over. Your homework is to write an essay on those five spells, explaining their effects and naming at least one witch or wizard who has used it to save their life of that of another. Trust me, it won't be half as hard as it sounds." Harry had a brief vision of what those essays would be like if assigned twenty-five years in the future. Expelliarmus Charm: Used by Harry Potter to defeat Lord Voldemort. "It will be due on Friday. Now, is there anything anyone would like to ask me?"

A girl whispered something to her friend, who giggled and raised her hand. "Professor, how old are you?"

Harry grimaced. "I'd been hoping that wouldn't come up. I turned nineteen last July."

A torrent of murmurs and giggles swept the class. "Are you qualified?" said the boy sitting next to Max who'd spoken so sarcastically earlier.

Harry looked him straight in the eye and said, clearly, "More than you could know."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Marauders were uncharacteristically silent as they walked to their next class. Then, all at the exact same moment—

"He definitely knows we're Animagi," said Sirius.

"You and him look identical," said Peter.

"Why'd you go and use nonverbal? Are you an idiot?" demanded Remus.

"Good lesson, what'd you guys think? I'm sitting next to Lily!" cried James.

"Right," said Sirius, laughing. "I suppose it was a good lesson. He didn't seem to mind that you used nonverbal. No one cares that you're sitting next to Lily. And Prongs, you two really do look exactly the same."

"But his eyes are green!" said James. "And—blimey—nineteen. You wouldn't think Dumbledore'd let someone that young teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in the middle of a war."

"That 'more than you could know' stuff sounded pretty convincing, though," said Remus.

"I wish we had the Map," said Sirius longingly. "So we could really look up on him. It's like we're blind without it."

There was a chorus of agreement at this.

"Back to the old-fashioned way, I guess," said James. "There really does seem to be something odd about him. I mean, he's nineteen; how many chances could he have had to use Expelliarmus against Death Eaters? And more importantly: how does he know we're Animagi? It's not like he's ever seen me in form."

"And to think we thought Seventh Year would be dull!" said Sirius exultantly.

"Ha!" laughed Remus. "When did we ever think that?"