Harry fell.
The wind rushed past his face as he fell, sitting on his trusty Firebolt, above the Quidditch Pitch, seeing the sun rise from the treetops and the clouds float overhead, all the while hurtling down towards the grassy pitch like an errant missile, faster and faster. Harry pulled up before he hit the ground, seizing the Snitch in mid-air as it weaved its way above the Pitch. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, feeling Cho's present try to escape his grip. After a half an hour of practice, Harry felt his old Quidditch skills return, after almost two years without playing. Of course, it's much easier without the enemy Seeker, the Bludgers, and the Beaters harassing you, he reflected, releasing the Snitch. After a minute or two, he would fly after it again. And again, and again, constantly practicing and honing his skills until it was time for class.
It wasn't the best practice, but Harry enjoyed the silence, the contentment of unfettered flight. Here, he was away from the troubles of the world and his life. No Voldemort, no feuds with his friends, no guilt. He could abandon his roles as the Boy-who-Lived, the Daemonslayer, the Champion of Gryffindor, all of the chains and bonds that trapped him in a position that he didn't want.
Sighing to himself, Harry went after the Snitch again, seeing the gold glimmer at the other end of the Pitch. Almost instantly, the Firebolt closed the gap and Harry grabbed the Snitch. It was too easy, but he kept at it anyway, over and over again, feeling the wind whistle through his hair, and the morning sun embrace his greedy skin.
A seeker in flight.
An hour later, Harry returned to the silence of Gryffindor Tower, showering and changing into his school robes. Putting his Firebolt back in its trunk, he made his way down to the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was busy eating breakfast and preparing for the new school day. Sitting beside Hermione, he helped himself to some of the food prepared. "Morning, 'Mione," he said, with a mouth full of pancakes.
Hermione sighed in frustration. "Honesty, Harry, you can be as bad as Ron sometimes," she said, handing him a sheet of parchment. "Professor McGonagall has handed out timetables already. Where were you this morning? And more importantly, where were you this summer?"
"Answering your first question, practicing for Quidditch," Harry replied, seeing Hermione's disapproval. "Relax, 'Mione. You want us to win the Quidditch Cup, don't you? Not that you guys didn't do well or anything," he said, looking at Ron and Ginny.
Ron shook his head in embarrassment, mumbling, "Thanks, Harry."
"Where did you get a Snitch to practice with?" Ginny asked, tilting her head quizzically.
"Cho gave me one for my birthday."
Ron's jaw dropped. "Wicked! Your very own Snitch! Will you be ready for the new Quidditch season, mate?"
Harry smiled when Ron called him 'mate'. Back to normal, I guess. "Hopefully, yes. As for the summer, I was at Hogwarts, training with Cho and Professor Stormfury."
Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Training, Harry? You can't possibly be thinking about going after V-Voldemort!" she said, sorrow in her voice.
"For the moment, no," Harry said, shaking his head, watching the expressions of his friends turn to terror. "But the Death Eaters could attack at any time, just like in Diagon Alley, and Dumbledore wanted me to be prepared." Dumbledore, Harry thought bitterly. Once again, the elderly sage was missing from the staff table. All this time, I've been manipulated into a weapon by him. Well, I'm not going to be treated like his guard dog anymore. When he comes back, he'll have to learn that.
"But what was Cho doing here?" Ginny asked, leaning forward inquisitively.
"Training with me. Dumbledore invited her here too." I shouldn't tell them about the prophecies, he thought. Just to keep them safe. If Voldemort captured them to get the prophecies, I could never forgive myself.
Before Ginny could question him further, Ron asked, "What did you do in your training, mate?"
"Some new curses. Lots of training with weapons, swords mainly. And," Harry replied, lowering his voice to a whisper, "some wandless magic."
Hermione gasped. "Wandless magic? Oh, Harry, that's incredible! Wandless magic is incredibly advanced," she squealed in excitement. "How did you do it?"
Harry shook his head. "It's complex, 'Mione, I don't think I could teach it to you. Besides, I've only used it once or twice, and it wasn't very controlled."
Ron grinned from ear to ear, saying, "How about you show us an example? Come on, Harry, just a bit."
Hermione turned on Ron, her face flushed with excitement and aggravation in equal measure. "Ron!" she snapped. "Wandless magic is nothing to be toyed with!"
"Come on, 'Mione, don't be so uptight."
"Uptight? What do you mean, uptight?"
As Ron and Hermione bickered amongst themselves, Harry got a look at his timetable for the day.
N.E.W.T-level Potions
N.E.W.T-level Charms
N.E.W.T-level Care of Magical Creatures
Lunch
N.E.W.T-level Transfiguration
N.E.W.T-level Defence Against the Dark Arts
Potions was first. Harry had no idea what deity he had pissed off to receive that class first thing in the morning. Snape was bound to make Harry's life hell, but he resolved to not let the Potions Master get under his skin.
Next was Charms. Professor Flitwick was known for being friendly and helpful, and Harry scored an O in Charms during his O.W.L's. He would have little trouble there.
Care of Magical Creatures would be enjoyable. Harry worried, thought, about which obscenely dangerous beast Hagrid would be bringing in this year. The kind half-giant loved monstrous creatures, the deadlier, the better. Only last year, Hagrid had brought a baby giant named Grawp with him back to Hogwarts, "baby" being a relative term, as Grawp was the size of a small cabin.
Transfiguration, in the afternoon, would be one of the more difficult classes. His O.W.L. results in the class were pretty good, but the subject was a tricky one on the whole. McGonagall was a strict and demanding teacher, but one that knew what she was doing.
Finally, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry laughed to himself. The entire summer had been one massive DADA lesson, and he had learned more in those two months with Stormfury than a year under Umbridge, testament to the Shadow Hunter's skill as a teacher. Afterwards, Harry was done for the day, having only five classes. He didn't take Divination, since the ability to see the future through a chicken's entrails wasn't required to be an Auror. Astronomy also wasn't required to become an Auror, nor was Herbology.
Hermione glanced over at his timetable. "Potions, huh?" she asked, looking up at Harry's face.
"Snape will be in a foul mood, probably," Harry grumbled. He turned back to his friends. "Listen, everybody, I'm sorry about what happened in Diagon Alley. It's-"
Ron cut him off. "You don't have to apologize for anything, mate. Even though I'd been a total prat, you came back for me when the Death Eaters attacked. We should be apologizing to you. I'm not entirely sure about Cho, but she can't be too bad if you're back with her."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "If you trust Cho, then I trust her. What about you, Gin?"
Ginny's face turned red as all eyes looked towards her. "Sure, I guess," she mumbled, averting her gaze from Harry's.
First class, Potions. Finishing his breakfast, Harry headed down to the dungeons, sitting next to Hermione, observing Snape's expression change to one of shock when he walked in. The greasy-haired Potions Master stared at Harry, mouth open in surprise. Harry grinned to himself. Thought you could get rid of me that easily, could you?
With a wave of his wand, Snape wrote a series of complex instructions on the board, before addressing the students. "Welcome to N.E.W.T-level Potions," Snape said, his voice oozing with contempt. "And I regret to say that I am surprised that some of you have managed to scrape the grades together needed to enter this class. Some of you are here because you have talent in the subtle arts of potion-brewing," he said, his gaze focusing on Malfoy, "while some are in utter denial of their lack of skills." For a moment, Harry felt Snape's eyes on him, and his face turned into a twisted sneer.
"Today, we shall be making Tranquility Potions, used by Healers to relax a patient's muscles and render them immobile. The instructions are on the board. Gather your ingredients and start working!" he snapped, turning towards Harry and Hermione. "As for you, Ms. Granger, you won't be helping Potter this time. You'll be partnered with Ms. Parkinson. Potter, team up with Ms. Zabini."
"But, Professor-"
"Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying my instructions, Ms. Granger," Snape interjected. "Now, get moving. That goes double for you, Potter!"
Harry gritted his teeth. Slimy git, he thought, watching Snape bully the class into submission. "And where is Ms. Zabini?" he asked the brooding Potions Master. Snape responded by pointing to one of the desks. Walking over, his textbooks slung over his shoulder, Harry sat down beside her. He had only seen her a few times before, most notably at the Sorting when he first came to Hogwarts, maybe once or twice in class. He couldn't even remember an occasion when he had spoken to her.
Behind him, Malfoy chuckled. "Potter's got the Ice Queen!" he whispered. Beside him, Goyle applied ice to a massive bruise, testament to the solidness of Crabbe's head. "Have fun, Potty!" Draco hissed, chuckling to himself.
Blaise looked up at Harry. "How about you get the ingredients while I copy down the notes, alright Potter?" she said calmly, staring at the board. The Slytherin girl barely acknowledged Harry's presence, merely jotting down the instructions.
Shaking his head, Harry gathered the supplies. Returning back to table, he took a good look at Blaise, who was copying down the last of the instructions. Her blond hair flowed down her back like a river of gold, and her pale skin gave her an aristocratic look. Bright blue eyes, filled with intelligence and cunning, drank in every detail before her. Harry was amazed by her beauty, having seen only ugliness and hate amongst the other Slytherin girls. Get a hold of yourself, Harry! he thought, mentally slapping himself for thinking about her that way. She's pretty, yes, but Cho is ten times as beautiful. Besides, she's a Slytherin!
Silently, the two began to work on the potion, with Malfoy and his cronies muttering behind them. Blaise proved to be a diligent and skilled, although distant, partner; only speaking to Harry when necessary. After a while working on the potion, Harry began to understand why Malfoy called her the Ice Queen. She was very intelligent, but not much of a conversationalist, and treated Harry with a mild neglect, if not ignoring him.
One hour and 30 points from Gryffindor later, Harry corked the opening of the sample flask, filled with a clear-green solution, and presented it on Snape's desk. The Potions Master sneered, "So, Potter, how many strings did you pull to get into this class? A favour from the Minister, perhaps? Merlin knows how many rules you've broken already."
Harry paid no attention to Snape's biting remarks. "I just worked hard, Professor. That's all there is to it."
As Harry went back to his desk, the sound of shattering crystal could be heard. Turning around, his worst fears were confirmed. The sample flask was broken on the floor, lying in a pool of potion, having "accidentally" fallen. Snape's lips curled up into a vicious smile. "Unfortunately, not hard enough, Potter. Your innate clumsiness hasn't improved, I see. Since you have no sample to give me, that means no-"
"Wait a moment, Professor." Blaise's voice cut through the air before an argument could erupt. "I have additional samples with me, just in case," she declared, displaying two more flasks filled with Tranquility Potion. Every eye in the class focused on her. Snape's jaw dropped. Behind them, Malfoy looked like he had heard Christmas was cancelled. Hermione giggled at seeing Snape's plan foiled.
Blaise ignored the stares of the other students. "Now, Professor Snape, please try to be careful with these, crystal is very expensive to replace," she said, her voice full of sarcasm. "And don't shake them around too much, Tranquility Potion will separate and become useless if stirred. But it's alright, accidents happen all the time."
Snape's face turned red, and Harry could see veins bulge in anger on his neck. "Do you presume to instruct the Potions Master on how to prepare potions?" he inquired, his voice deathly quiet and menacing.
The willowy Slytherin shook her head. "No, I'm just making sure that my marks are graded. If that's alright, Professor."
Snape pounded his hands on the desk before snatching the flasks from Blaise's grasp. "See me after class, Ms. Zabini. The rest of you, get out! Out!" he screamed, while Harry and the other students grabbed their things and beat a hasty retreat from the classroom.
Harry caught up with Hermione in the dungeon corridor. "Did you see that?" he asked, bewildered by Blaise's actions. "Snape looked like he was going to blow a gasket!"
Hermione laughed despite herself. "Finally, someone showed that greasy git up. Who is that girl, Harry? I haven't heard much about her before."
"I think I've seen her in some of our classes before," Harry stated, running a hand through his hair. Why did she defend me? he thought, listening to Hermione's words. "It's really the first time I've actually done any work with her," he said, pausing for a moment. "Listen, 'Mione, I'm really sorry about-"
Hermione interrupted him. "It's okay, Harry. That was nice of you, though, apologizing to the others. Besides," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, "it's none of our business who you're going out with. Just as long as you're happy. Now let's stop all this fighting, and head up to Charms."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, 'Mione. You go ahead, I need to do something."
"You sure, Harry? You don't want to be late for class," Hermione said.
"Don't worry, 'Mione. Snape let us out early, I'll have time."
"Okay," Hermione said, walking out of the dungeons, her bushy hair seen over the crowds of students leaving the dungeon. Harry stood beside the Potions classroom, hearing Snape's angry ranting behind the solid oak doors for the next several minutes. Why did she help me? Harry wondered, arms crossed along his chest. Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses were rivals, ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. Hell, since the days of the Founders themselves, Gryffindor and Slytherin were at odds. Slytherin House was Gryffindor's main rival in Quidditch. Malfoy and his goons harboured a grudge against Harry since when they first met on the train. The list of grievances between the two houses was endless.
And yet, Blaise had helped Harry. Despite the fact that Snape always turned a blind eye to the misdeeds of the Slytherins, and did all he could to keep the other Houses down, Blaise had turned against him, siding with the old enemies of her House instead.
The doors slammed open and Blaise walked out, her face twisted in anger, tying her flowing hair into a ponytail as she walked. "Hey, Blaise," Harry called, trying to grab her attention. "Hey, Blaise!"
She turned on him, snarling, "What is it, Potter? Shouldn't you be off with Weasley and Granger?"
"Why did you help me?" Harry asked, moving towards the pretty Slytherin.
Blaise snorted in frustration. "Because it was my mark too, Potter. Snape was over the line, that's all. Now bugger off!" she shouted, pushing him away.
Harry stumbled backwards, shocked by her brashness. "I'm sorry, Blaise," he muttered. "I just didn't know. I assumed you were one of Malfoy's friends."
"There's your problem, Potter," Blaise snapped, her hard blue eyes staring daggers at Harry. "You assumed. You and the rest of the Dream Team automatically assume that just because I'm a Slytherin, I'm best friends with that prick. Or that I look up to Snape like some kind of father. That's Gryffindors, I guess. All frontal assault, kill-first, ask-questions-never."
Harry shirked back from her vicious verbal assault. Is that what we're really like? Harry thought, his mind reeling. I did that in the Department of Mysteries, and look what happened to Sirius... Unconsciously, Harry felt tears well up, and he slid down to the floor, his back against the dungeon wall. Calm down, Harry. It's not your fault.
"Potter? Harry?" Blaise asked, dropping her books beside her. "What's wrong?"
Harry reined in the urge to retort back, but he resisted. She doesn't know about Sirius. Let's keep it that way. "Nothing," he replied, gathering his things. "Sorry to bother you, Blaise."
Shaken by his incident with Blaise, Harry went into his other classes with doubt gnawing away inside him. Was he really like that? Was Gryffindor House really like that? Harry had always seen his House as a shining example for the others, where heroes were made and people were willing to stand up for themselves. Slytherin was the exact opposite, with pureblood supremacists dominating the House, willing to do whatever it took to win. However, Blaise had spoke of a darker side to the Gryffindors, a more reckless side. Harry wondered what the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs thought of him and his House.
He pushed the thoughts away, furious with himself for allowing Blaise to weaken him. I've failed in the past, but I'm not some spoiled git like Malfoy. What does Blaise know about me, or the other Gryffindors?
In Charms, Professor Flitwick tutored the students on the basics of Apparation. "Apparation is a very complex process," the tiny Head of Ravenclaw squeaked, addressing the class. "If the charm goes wrong, the consequences can be very painful and deadly. You cannot Apparate just with the word, you must concentrate, visualize the destination, and focus the whole of your efforts on the charm. Hopefully, by the end of this year, you will learn how to Apparate in time for your test."
Care of Magical Creatures was next. "T'deh," Hagrid boomed, pointing to the petit creature emerging from the trees, "we'll be studyin' Dryads."
The Dryad took the form of a woman, with skin a shining green, her hair black like rich soil, and a lithe figure. The tree Spirit generated an aura of peace and contentment around it, its presence banishing away fear and despair. Its blue eyes focused on Harry with vivid intensity. Just like Blaise, Harry thought, so lively and beaut-WHAT? Get a grip, Harry! Cho's the only girl for you! You're betraying her by thinking about Blaise like that!
"Come on now," Hagrid shouted, waving several of the more timid students closer. "Nuthin' to be afeard of." He then went on to talk about the magical properties of Dryads, like the regenerative nature of their bodies, and how they are bound to the life-force of a particular tree. "If the tree is cut 'own," Hagrid explained, "then the Dryad dies. Sad, ain't it?"
In Transfiguration, McGonagall started quickly, showing the class how to turn a hedgehog into a feather pillow. By the end of the class, Harry had managed to complete the transformation, although the pillow still had an odd quill poking out. Only Hermione achieved success, as expected, with Harry and Ron close behind.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts, finally!" Ron shouted, as the trio made their way towards the classroom. "You sure he's a good teacher, Harry?" he asked, nervous anticipation in his voice.
"Don't worry, Ron. Professor Stormfury knows what he's doing. He's not Umbridge, you know," Harry replied.
Hermione exhaled a breath of relief. "Thank goodness. Honestly, did that woman really expect us to learn curses without practicing them? She probably ruined a lot of students with her teaching method, those not in the D.A. Why, if I even see her again, I'll give her a piece of my mind, that's for sure!"
Harry laughed, seeing Hermione's face turn red as she ranted. "Calm down, 'Mione," he said jokingly. "You'll have plenty of time to practice curses. And trust me, this guy hates the Ministry just as much as you do."
Finally, the trio entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The damage caused by Harry's Elementalism miscast had been repaired, and the class looked surprisingly different than in previous years. The giant skeleton that hung from the ceiling had been removed, and the assorted trinkets and baubles scattered around the class were gone. Instead, a traditional duelling strip sat in the centre of the classroom, with desks on either side. A rack of bokken, the wooden Japanese training swords, hung from a wall. Sunlight filtered in through the open windows, and calm summer breezes wafted in from outside, mingling with the sweet scent of burning incense, opening Harry's pores and clearing his lungs. Stormfury sat in the middle of the duelling strip, eyes closed, brow furrowed, chanting mantras to aid in meditation. Even in this relaxed state, Harry had no doubt that the Shadow Hunter could deal with any threat in an instant.
"Come in, children," Stormfury murmured. "Take a seat. We will begin today's lesson shortly."
Sitting at one of the desks, Harry watched the other students come in. To his delight, the majority were members of the D.A., including Cho, who flashed him a bright smile as she came in, her raven-black hair shining in the light. A smattering of Slytherins lead by Malfoy came in together, Malfoy sneering unpleasantly as Parkinson held onto his hand. Harry even saw Blaise come in, and quickly looked away, rather than think about her again.
Cho sat down beside Harry and his friends. "Hey, Harry," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, everyone."
"Hello, Cho," Hermione replied, while Ron grunted in response.
Cho leaned over to Harry; whispering into his ear, "Guess they don't totally trust me."
Harry kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, Cho. They will in time," he said, catching the scent of- lilacs?- in her hair. He looked over to Michael Corner and Marietta Edgecombe, who were sitting together with some of the other Ravenclaws. Michael glanced over at Harry's table, his face hard-bitten with jealously, the badge of the Head Boy pinned to the front of his Ravenclaw robes. Marietta looked at Harry with obvious distaste, and turned away haughtily. Great, the Head Boy and Cho's best friend hate me for being with her. "What about your friends?" Harry asked.
Cho snorted in disgust. "Screw them, Harry. They don't approve, but I don't care. Let's not worry about them."
Meanwhile, as the last student arrived, Stormfury stood up and addressed the class, the gold runes on his robes glittering in the sunlight. "Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said, his keen gaze looking around the room. "My name is Daelin Stormfury, your new Defence professor. And, I assure you, I'll be much better than your last one."
Chuckles burst from the D.A. members, while the Slytherins looked around nervously. Stormfury smiled before continuing. "Miss. Umbridge and myself have very different teaching styles. It is my belief that you should get as much real-life experience as possible, besides theoretical work. To that end, you will be learning a variety of new curses and duelling techniques to use against real opponents, not pixies and Red Caps. You will learn how to defend yourself against a variety of Dark wizards and Dark creatures, and learn how to use various fighting styles to defeat them. You will be studying famous Dark wizards and witches, and how they became that way. You will learn why people turn to the Dark Arts, not just how to beat them. Knowledge of one's enemy is vital. Remember that."
All around Harry, the students whispered and muttered to each other nervously. Malfoy and the Slytherins chuckled to themselves. Harry felt his hate for the spoiled Slytherin growing by the minute. Hoping to join your daddy and Voldemort? he thought. There was little doubt in Harry's mind that Draco was planning on becoming a Death Eater like his father.
Stormfury picked up a textbook, the official, Ministry-approved one used by Umbridge last year. "In this class, I only ask three things from you. Three simple principles that will guide you through this course. First, you do your best on any assignments or projects I hand out. If you are having trouble, I will be available to help you. If, for some reason, I am not, ask one of your fellow students. There are some very talented duellists in this class-" Stormfury's gaze focused on Harry and Cho for a moment, "-and I'm certain they can help." His grip on the textbook tightened.
"Second, keep an open mind. Many of my lessons may seem unusual or strange, but I teach them for good reasons, so pay attention. Finally," Stormfury said, with every eye in the room paying close attention, "you see that I have broken down House lines in this class. We have Gryffindors and Slytherins working alongside Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. That is because you are Hogwarts," he exclaimed, hitting his fist on the table. "There will be no House rivalries in this class. You may find yourselves working with members of another House at a point. And I tell you now, should the enemy reach the gates of this school, you must either stand together, or fall." With a quick phrase, the textbook started to smoke and sizzle in Stormfury's hand. After a moment, it flared into ash, flames licking the pages. The students jumped back in their seats, startled by the sudden display of power, muttering to themselves in fear when his back was turned.
"Today," Stormfury barked, "we will be doing some duelling practice. As I understand it, many of you have had experience duelling before?" Heads nodded in affirmation around the room. "Good. Duelling will compose a large part of this course, as it's important for you to be able to defend yourselves. Can I have two volunteers to come up, and give us a demonstration? How about Mr. Weasley and... Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy grinned to himself. "That should be easy, Professor. Weasel here has about as much talent as he does gold, which isn't much." Laughter broke out from the Slytherins as Malfoy walked into the duelling strip. "How about I show you how a real pure-blood duels? I'll be sending you home to your cow of a mother before the end of the day!"
"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!" Stormfury snapped. "Personal comments like that only show me its you that do not have skill. The strength of a real warrior lies with actions and honour, not with foolish bravado."
Ron gritted his teeth, and rose out of his seat, his fists clenched and face red in rage. "Good luck, Ron," Harry said, watching his friend move towards the front.
"I don't need luck to wipe the smirk off of that git's face," Ron growled, reaching for his wand.
"Take him down, Ron!" Dean shouted as he walked past.
"Show him who's boss!" Parvati encouraged.
"Go Ron!" Cho shouted, much to Harry's amazement. Within moments, the assembled Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs began to chant, "Ron, Ron, Ron..." The youngest of the Weasley sons reached the ring, and stood across from Malfoy, flexing his fingers as if preparing to strangle the spoiled Slytherin.
"Gentlemen," Stormfury said, looking at the two students, "you may begin."
With incredible speed, Ron had his wand out and aimed at Malfoy. "Stupefy!"
Malfoy barely managed to dodge Ron's curse, before sending another in response, his face contorted in anger. "Expelliarmus!"
"Protogo!" Ron conjured a Shield Charm around himself, blocking Malfoy's attack with ease. "Reducto!" The Reductor Curse narrowly missed Malfoy, sending chips of stone flying as it hit the wall. The two combatants faced each other like starving wolves, watching the other warily, preparing to pounce if they saw weakness.
"Not so easy without your goons to help you out, is it, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, his eyes drilling holes through the Slytherin.
Malfoy spat on the ground. "I can take you, Weasley, just watch!"
Harry eyed the standoff with baited breath. Malfoy looked scared, his face paler than normal. The blond Slytherin usually confronted Harry and his friends with a cadre of other Slytherins backing him up, and wasn't used to fighting alone. He was trying to build up his courage to strike, now that Ron had weathered his first attacks without difficultly. Ron, however, was maddened by Malfoy's comments, and was barely keeping himself from charging forward and pounding him into dust. If Ron keeps his cool, he'll be able to win this, Harry thought. If he does something rash, Malfoy might catch him off guard. Patience, Ron, patience. Malfoy will do something stupid, and then you'll have him.
Harry could not have been more correct in his estimation, for Malfoy did something really stupid just then. "Your sister's a really nice piece of work," Malfoy whispered, goading Ron on. "Too bad she's a Muggle-lover, but at least she's a pure-blood, and a pretty one at that. Probably a beast in bed too."
Ron's eyes filled with homicidal rage. "Don't you dare talk about her THAT WAY!" he screamed, leaping forward like a rampaging bull. "REDUCTO!"
The curse smashed into Malfoy faster than the eye could see, taking him off his feet and sending him into the wall with a dull thud. Malfoy struggled to stay upright, the wind knocked out of him. "REDUCTO!" Ron's next curse slammed him in the face, causing blood to pour from his nose like a tap. "Accio wand!" The Slytherin's wand flew into Ron's hand, ending the duel.
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindors as Ron stood victorious. In the back of the class, Blaise chuckled softly to herself. "Ten points to Gryffindor," Stormfury intoned, moving over to Malfoy. "No need to beat him up, Mr. Weasley, you've already won. Now, tell me, Mr. Malfoy, why did you lose?"
The blond Slytherin gasped for breath. "He broke my node," he said, his words slurred due to his damaged nose. "Bloody bastard broke my node."
"I'll bloody crucify you if you talk about Ginny that way again, you slimy, Death Eater motherf-"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," Stormfury said calmly, holding up a hand to silence the hot-headed Gryffindor. "Overconfidence, Mr. Malfoy, lead to your downfall. Now, head down to Madame Pomfrey's and get fixed up. We might be having a lot of that in this class."
Malfoy moaned as he walked down the hall, Crabbe supporting him. Parkinson screeched, "That's not fair, Professor! Weasley cheated!"
"On the contrary, Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Weasley won fair and square. However, can anyone show the class some more advanced duelling techniques? Mr. Potter, Ms. Chang, could you enlighten us?"
For a moment, Harry froze. Is asking me to duel Cho? He felt Cho's hand grasp his. "Come on, Harry, let's give them something to talk about," she whispered into his ear.
"Sure," came Harry's response.
Moving to the duelling strip, Harry and Cho faced one another, holding their arms loosely at their sides, readying themselves for Stormfury's signal to begin. Harry looked into Cho's beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. He remembered her words from the night before. Don't go easy on me. Play like you would play anyone else. Harry took several deep breaths, his body and mind as taunt as a bowstring, letting all other thoughts escape his mind. Only one remained. Win.
"Begin!" Stormfury shouted.
Almost instantly, Harry and Cho had their wands out, drawing them with incredible speed. "Stupefy!" Cho shouted, firing off a curse at Harry. Harry dived to one side and replied with a Stunning Curse of his own. Cho leapt out of its path, launching several Reductor Curses in quick succession, forcing Harry to drop to the ground in order to evade them.
Harry stood back up, running to the left. "Bludgeous!" The black sphere hurtled towards Cho, who cast a Shield Charm, nullifying it before it reached her.
"Bludgeous!" Another Projectile Hex sped towards Cho with the force of a cinderblock. Cho somersaulted backwards, raising her wand in mid-air. "Reducto!"
"Protego!" Harry's Shield Charm came up, dispelling Cho's attack instantly, before dodging another curse that followed on the heels of the first.
Sweat dripped from Harry's brow, but he paid no attention to it, concentrating on winning the duel. He felt his mind detach from the world around him for a moment, almost as if his body was on auto-pilot. Every action was reflex, every movement was fluid, the dance of curse and counter-curse. Outside the duelling strip, nothing existed, no Voldemort, no students, nothing but the thrill of battle as he duelled with the woman he loved, neither able to overcome the other. Time passed, how long Harry couldn't be sure, caught in the machine-like routine of curse, dodge and curse again.
"Concussionus!" both Harry and Cho screamed simultaneously, leaping forward. The Blasting Curses impacted with a thunderous crack, the shockwave knocking the two Champions head over heels and onto their backs.
Jumping back up, Cho raised her wand, not at Harry, but at the rack of wooden swords. "Accio bokken!" One of the swords was ripped from the rack, and flew into Cho's outstretched hand. Tracing a line on the duelling strip, she turned to face Harry, her chest heaving in exertion.
"Accio bokken!" Another bokken flew through the air, this time into Harry's hand. Pocketing his wand, he held the polished oak sword in a tight two-handed grip and gave Cho a warrior's salute.
The entire class released the collective breath of air as the two combatants charged each other, wielding their swords with deadly skill. Although made of oak and without any edge or point, the bokken could still do damage if it connected. Harry thrust forward towards Cho's chest, using his sword like a lance. Cho parried the blow, spinning around and bringing her sword down at Harry's back. Harry ducked, hearing the whoosh overhead, then stabbed upwards, aiming for her midsection. Cho blocked Harry's attack, and leaned in, pushing her sword forward, knocking him on his arse.
Harry sprung back up and pressed the attack, striking with quick jabs and slashes, seeking a weak point in Cho's defences. Cho parried these attacks, then stepped forward, slashing violently, the sound of wood slamming against wood echoing throughout the room. The bokken became a living thing in Cho's hands, striking with the speed of a serpent, forcing Harry on the defensive. The spectators could barely see the sword, moving so fast as it was, jabbing and cutting. Harry blocked a massive downward cut and pushed her away, his sword sweeping in a tight arc towards her neck. The Ravenclaw beauty dodged out of the path of the blow with a spinning leap, her hair falling out of her ponytail and streaming behind her.
It was sensual in some ways, this duel. Harry smelled Cho's sweet perfume, watched her body writhe and twist as she tried to take the advantage. She flashed him a wicked smile as she came at him, sword thrusting towards his belly. Both their bodies were sweating from the massive exertions of the combat, giving their foreheads a distinct sheen. Cho whirled around, using the momentum to add power to her blow, her hair flowing like a river of midnight. Harry held his sword vertically, the impact running down the length of the wood, rattling his bones.
Time to end this, Harry thought. He charged forward, his sword pointed low. As Cho's bokken whistled towards his head, he ducked, ran underneath her guard, and stood back up behind and to the left of her, his sword lightly touching her throat.
"You're dead, my love," he whispered, inhaling the scent of her hair.
He felt the tip of Cho's sword touch his groin. "You too, lover-boy," Cho whispered condescendingly. "Look down."
Looking down, Harry gasped. At the same time as he had scored the winning blow against Cho, she had reversed her sword so it was pointing towards her, and thrust backwards behind her, lightly touching Harry's crotch. If that had been a real sword, Harry would have been killed, or even worse, unmanned. He looked back up. "That's wasn't very nice!" he exclaimed, withdrawing his sword.
Stormfury came up to them. "Thirty points to both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, for an amazing duel. Now," he said, addressing the class, "does anyone have any questions about duelling?"
Harry could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. The majority of the D.A. members were awestruck by what they had seen, some even clapped and whistled at the pair. The Slytherins were utterly freaked out, fear and surprise written all over their faces. Parkinson was as white as a ghost, and her jaw had dropped wide enough to drive a carriage through. Michael Corner's eyes were frightened as he looked upon Cho, perhaps seeing a side of her that he hadn't before. Ron was chuckling half-heartedly to himself, while Hermione look flustered by the sudden turn of events, but she raised her hand anyway. "Uh, Harry, just out of curiousity, how did you do that?"
Harry chuckled despite himself. "Just with practice, 'Mione."
"Obviously, I'm not expecting you to fight at that level right away, but with practice, you can." Stormfury said, directing Harry and Cho to their seats. For the rest of the class, Stormfury reviewed tactics to use in duelling, what spells to use in a particular situation, etc. The students sat rapt with attention, copying down notes, listening to the veteran Shadow Hunter teach them how to fight. For Harry and Cho, this was mostly review from what they had learned during the summer, but they listened anyway.
The final bell rang, and the students began to leave the class, chatting excitedly to themselves about what they had learned. "Mr. Potter, would you mind staying for a moment?" Stormfury called.
Harry turned to Cho. "Sorry, Cho," he whispered, kissing her, feeling her perfect, full lips. "I'll meet up with you later, okay?"
Cho smiled, looking into his emerald-green eyes. "That's alright, my love. Great duel, by the way."
Harry blushed despite himself. "Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself." Squeezing her hand for a moment, he turned and returned to the class, where Stormfury observed him with quiet respect.
"Potter, that was brilliant!" he exclaimed, picking up one of the bokken they had used. "Did you two plan it ahead of time?"
Harry shook his head. "No, Professor, not really. We just fought each other like we would have fought anyone else," he replied, echoing Cho's words.
Stormfury chuckled. "Good job, Potter. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your Occlumency training. It starts tonight."
"Tonight, Professor? Where? Who?"
"Her name is Avalon, Mr. Potter. She's a Spirit Walker, personally trained by the Grand Master Seros himself; he's the leader of the Spirit Walkers. They're another one of the factions within the Council, they're seers, scholars and philosophers. They spend much of their time cataloguing the history of our people and searching the streams of Fate.
Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do they search for?"
"Answers, Mr. Potter, answers to questions that have been asked throughout the ages. Meet her at the top of the North Tower at eight tonight. She's rather anxious to met the fabled Daemonslayer."
"She knows about the prophecy?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.
Stormfury smiled. "Knows about it? She divined it. Good luck, Mr. Potter."
Five minutes before eight, Harry stood in front of the tower's steps, trying to calm himself down. All throughout dinner, he could hardly eat a bit. He had completed his homework in record time, then raced through the corridors, until he arrived here, at the old North Tower, one of the largest in the castle, with butterflies in his stomach and his curiosity screaming for satisfaction. He hadn't felt this jittery since he asked Cho out to the Yule Ball in his fourth year.
Calm down! he ordered himself, but he couldn't. The possibilities were too great. Dumbledore had spoken highly of this Avalon, and Stormfury said that she had been trained by the leader of the Spirit Walkers, so her powers in Occlumency must be good. After all this waiting and struggling to succeed in Occlumency, he had a chance, a chance to get Voldemort out of his head forever. Sirius' death, his miscast the day before his birthday, such events would never happen again.
And there was something else. Stormfury told him that the Spirit Walkers were expert seers. If that was true, than perhaps Harry could discover what was going to happen between him and Voldemort. He could avoid any mistakes, and prevent others from dying because of him. The possibilities were endless. Yet, a nagging doubt remained. Don't toy with things beyond your understanding.
As he waited, the door to the North Tower opened. "Come here, young Daemonslayer, come here. I've been expecting you," came the voice, soft as the breeze and as sweet and chocolate.
Entranced by the ghostly voice, Harry had no choice but to obey.
Blaise Zabini spoke the password, "Poison teeth," and entered the Slytherin Common Room. The dungeons were as dank and forbidding as usual, but this was home for Blaise, as moldy as it was. All around Blaise, the Slytherins engaged in their usual activities, homework, bullying the first-years, and plotting revenge...
The willowy beautiful Slytherin went straight for her dormitory, ignoring the cat-calls and suggestive comments that followed her, spoken by hot-blooded Slytherin boys who were under the distinct impression that they were worthy of a woman's affection. Blaise deposited her books on her silken four-poster bed, going through what work she had to do. An essay for Transfiguration, due next Thursday, reporting on her successes and failures of today's lesson. Deciphering a page of cuniform script for Ancient Runes. A three-foot long Potions essay, assigned by Snape as punishment for her outburst, on the importance of respecting one's elders and betters. Blaise laughed to herself. He may be my elder, but he's definitely not my better.
Shaking her head, she decided to skip the homework, and move on to other matters. Checking to make sure that no one was in the dorm, she locked the doors, and moved to a small cabinet beside her bed. None of the other girls would mind. Pansy was probably off snogging Draco, and the other girls could work in the common room.
Opening the bottom drawer of the cabinet, she uncovered a large box, made of pinewood, the latch designed in the shape of a serpent, a common feature in the dungeons. Touching the top of the chest, she was rewarded with a disembodied voice speaking from the latch. "Password?"
"Knowledge is power," Blaise whispered, her voice as smooth as silk. Instantly, the latches unlocked. Opening the chest, Blaise was greeted with slim folders, several dozen of them. Each one was labelled with a name and house, like Malfoy, Draco Tiberus. Also, they were sorted by House, the Slytherins in green folders, Gryffindors in red, and so on. At a quick glance, one could see that the majority of the folders were green, although a good number were blue, representing the Ravenclaws.
These were her information dossiers, containing important knowledge about the school's most important or influential students. Within each was the student's name, House, vital information, blood status, habits, friends, and assorted notes about their activities. In her first year at Hogwarts, Blaise had discovered that she had something of a talent for intelligence gathering. She didn't do it for blackmail purposes, unless provoked, or for some perverse pleasure. Her motives were simple survival. Her father, before he was killed by jealous business opponents, always taught her to be resourceful, to be cunning, to fight from the shadows. Know your enemy. Glorious acts of bravado, the kind the Gryffindors often engaged in, was a sure-fire way to get you killed.
For the majority of the student population, she was a non-entity, the pretty girl you maybe saw in the halls, but didn't really think twice about. For the staff, she was a quiet, determined student; the kind that didn't give them much trouble, just got good grades. Of course, that's probably not true now, with Snape. Lousy git. For those who did know her, a few amongst the Slytherins, she was known as the Ice Queen, a cold, haughty blond who didn't do any of the other things Slytherin House did, like pick fights with the Gryffindors. One of the Slytherin boys, after she turned him down to the Yule Ball in her fourth year, called her a 'first-class frigid bitch.' Thanks to her files, though, she had the last laugh. Discovering he had a crush on Pansy Parkinson, she sent an anonymous letter to Draco informing him, who promptly knocked his teeth out. Or rather, got Crabbe and Goyle to do it.
She worked alone, for the most part. Being a non-entity allowed her to slip into crowds unnoticed. When those two Gryffindors, Lavender and Parvati, gossiped amongst themselves in the halls, they paid no attention to her, dismissing her as just another Slytherin. That, combined with her powers of persuasion and a few magic trinkets she had picked up, she could find out whatever she needed to know.
Skimming through the assorted files, she drew out a single candidate. Potter, Harry James.
Moving to her bedside desk, she opened up the file, turning to the nearest blank page. Dipping her quill into ink, and making sure no one was watching, she began to write.
Paired with Harry Potter in Potions, got preliminary estimate on his behaviour. He is a kind, generous person, hardworking, paid little attention to House lines.
As reported earlier, hated by Snape and Malfoy. Has no love for either of those two, or for Slytherin House as a whole. Friends seem very dedicated to him.
Last year, leader of group known as D.A. Malfoy had often spoken of the D.A. last year, after Dumbledore had taken the blame for Potter and was forced to flee Hogwarts. Potter hates Slytherin House, and would be willing to fight it, no matter what. However, he is a forgiving person, and could be a useful ally if persuaded.
Recently, Potter has gotten back together with Cho Chang. All signs point to the fact that he deeply cares for her. This is a weakness that could be exploited.
Blaise stopped writing for a moment. Dipping her pen in ink, she scribbled out the last sentence, astonished that she would think that. Potter isn't a threat, Blaise, she thought, slamming the file shut and returning it back to the chest. Neither is his girlfriend. They could help you, if you treat them right. For the next few hours, she instead concentrated on her homework, forgetting about Potter or his girlfriend.
At around ten, a knock sounded on the door. Quickly, Blaise shut the chest and put it back in the cabinet. She couldn't trust the other Slytherins with the files; there was too much power in the knowledge she had gathered. While she used them merely to defend herself, if Malfoy got his hands on them, he would certainly abuse the knowledge within. Locking the cabinet shut, Blaise brushed a strand of hair from her vision and unlocked the door, to find Nott waiting impatiently, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.
Nott gave a toothy grin. "Hello, Blaise. It's-"
Blaise didn't give him a chance to continue, launching into a full-blown rant. "How dare you barge into a lady's chamber like that!" she shouted, her brilliant blue eyes staring daggers at Nott. "I could have been asleep, or naked for all you know!"
Crabbe chuckled to himself. "That's what I'd like to see!" he bellowed, stepping forward, coming uncomfortably close to Blaise. "Come on, Blaise, get your knickers off! Bet you like nice under there-"
Quick as a flash, Blaise kneed Crabbe in the groin, sending him to the floor, moaning in pain. "In your dreams, Vincent. Only there," she said, faking a sweet smile. "Now, Theo. Why don't you tell me why you're here, or should I just assume you're planning on ravaging me?"
Nott stuttered for a moment before responding, "Draco wants you to join the meeting tonight."
Ah, yes, the meeting, Blaise thought. Draco had called a meeting for the former Inquisitorial Squad members, probably to discuss Potter. She was thankful she did her homework. "I wasn't a member of the Squad, Theo. Why does Draco want to see me?"
"He'll tell you there," was Nott's response.
For the briefest of moments, Blaise's heart turned cold with fear. Had they discovered her secret, the deepest one, the one she had hid since she had arrived at Hogwarts? She shuddered to think what would happen if they had, what tortures they would inflict on her. Wait, Blaise. Be rational. If they had, they wouldn't have bothered with all the small talk. Malfoy would have sent in his goons and dragged you out like an animal. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Alright, Theo, I'll come. Kindly tell Crabbe to keep his hands off me though."
With Nott leading the way, and Crabbe and Goyle taking position beside her, Blaise headed into the Slytherin Common Room, where two dozen other Slytherins lounged on couches and loveseats, waiting for Malfoy to start the meeting. The spoiled Slytherin sat on an expensive leather chair, a martini glass cradled in his left hand and a cast over his nose. His girlfriend, Pansy, drew several bottles of vodka from a leather sack. "Everyone is present, Draco," Nott said, sitting to Malfoy's right.
Malfoy eyed Blaise expectantly. "Ah, Blaise, good of you to come. Sit down," he ordered. "Crabbe, Goyle, clear the unwanted out."
Grunting in affirmation, Crabbe and Goyle went to work, seizing any uninvited members of the House and kicked them out of the Common Room. A tiny first-year squeaked in dismay as Goyle grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him out, scattering parchment and ink. Blaise sat down in a vacant sofa-chair, crossing her long legs, her posture that of a patrician beauty. "Now, what's this about, Draco?" she purred.
The scheming Slytherin signalled Parkinson, who began pouring vodka into shot-glasses and distributing them to the assembled former Inquisitors. He turned back to Blaise, his cold grey eyes filled with malice. "Have a drink, Blaise. Now, tell me what you know about Potter."
Blaise left her drink untouched, saying, "The same that everyone else knows, Draco. He's the Boy Who Lived, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, one third of a trio, also comprising of Weasley and Granger. He's the boy the Dark Lord couldn't kill. He's the Seeker you can't beat. Even your father has had difficultly with him. What more is there to him?"
Malfoy downed the contents of the martini glass in one shot, then signalled for another. "I'll tell you what he is, Blaise. He's that orphan bastard who has foiled the Dark Lord's plans again and again. Because of him, Father was sent to Azkaban. Because of him, many of the shareholders in Father's companies have left, meaning that the Malfoy family is losing money," Draco said, pointing to his shabby robes, his voice becoming louder and louder. "Because of him, I have to dress like a Weasley!" The Slytherins muttered darkly in agreement. "Because of him, the name of the Noble House of Malfoy is tarnished. Because of him, the Noble House of Malfoy is, slowly but surely, BECOMING POOR!" He threw the martini glass down on the floor, breaking into a million pieces. Blaise sat stock still, her expression not changing in the slightest, as Malfoy grabbed his wand and lunged at her, placing the tip of his wand at her jugular vein.
Blaise appeared totally unfazed by Malfoy's sudden outburst, even as she felt Malfoy's hot breath on her skin. "And what does that have to do with me?" she asked.
"Because, this morning, you defended Potter in class. You took the side of a Gryffindor over the Head of this House," Malfoy hissed, grabbing her by the hair. "I want to know why."
Blaise looked into Malfoy's bloodshot eyes. "Because, Draco," she replied, her voice as sweet as honey, "Professor Snape hurt my marks too. I merely want to make sure I pass the course. Slytherins shouldn't be fighting each other. We should be fighting the Gryffindors." Why couldn't we see this coming? Blaise thought, starting to get nervous. All those years ago, why didn't we recognize Draco for what he is, a spoiled, spineless brat? Why didn't we put him in his place, instead of letting his money and family connections seduce us? Why didn't we abandoned the notion that we had to be Death Eaters, and follow a path of our own choosing, free from the Dark Lord? How better things would be.
"Are you a loyal member of Slytherin House?" Malfoy barked, startling her from her reverie. "Can you truly call yourself one of us?" He gestured around the room at the other Slytherins, each staring at Blaise in anticipation.
"Of course," Blaise coolly replied. No, Draco, I'm not you. I'm better than you. I have ambition and cunning, the true qualities of our House, something you never will have.
Nott put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "Come on, Draco, Blaise is loyal. Let's stop fighting amongst ourselves, and find a way to get to Potter."
Malfoy shook his head, as if he was in a daze. "Yes, Potter, of course. How are we going to pay that son of a Gryffindor bitch back?" he snarled, releasing her and slumping back into his chair. Immediately, eager suggestions popped up from the Slytherins, while Pansy poured Malfoy another drink.
"Ambush him in the halls!"
"Knock him off his broom!"
"Spike his pumpkin juice with potion!"
Inwardly, Blaise laughed to herself. You call yourself Slytherin? Those are the most unoriginal plans I've ever heard!
Parkinson leapt up from serving Malfoy. "I've got it! We kidnap Chang!" she declared with an evil smile.
The room fell silent as Pansy continued. "Chang is Potter's girlfriend. We kidnap her, and threaten to kill her if Potter doesn't come quietly. Then, once he's here, we kill them both!" she crowed venomously.
Nott looked around nervously. "Are you insane, woman?" he asked, horror in his face. "In case you were asleep during Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potter and Chang duelled for about fifteen minutes non-stop. They used spells I haven't even heard of. They used swords, Pansy, wooden ones, but they could use real ones just as well. Trying to kidnap Chang and ambush Potter is suicide!" Around him, many of the Slytherins voiced their disapproval.
"Coward!" Pansy howled. "We can do it, I know we can!"
"Alright, Pansy," Nott retorted, his voice shrill with fear, "if we do kidnap them, then what? Potter has an army on his side, the D.A, remember from last year. With a word, he'll send them after us. Secondly, he'll know it's us! Who else would try something like this? Then, there are the teachers, they'll come looking for us, especially that Stormfury. I wouldn't want to cross him on a dark night!"
Pansy rushed over to Malfoy's side, bowing before him. "Draco, sweetie, we can do it!" she pleaded, "When we do, you'll be more famous than the Dark Lord! You, Draco Malfoy, will have killed the Boy Who Lived. Even Voldemort will bow down before you!" At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, the Slytherins shuddered despite themselves. Even Blaise, normally calm and calculating, felt her skin crawl at his name. Oh God, they're actually going to go through with it!
Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Get to work on a plan. When everything is ready, we'll strike and capture that Ravenclaw bitch before she knows what hit her. Potter will fall like a dead twig once she's ours." He raised his glass. "Victory to Slytherin House!"
"Victory!" the Slytherins cried, raising their glasses skyward and taking a deep drink. Blaise joined them, tendrils of horror gripping her heart. Malfoy's gone insane to agree to this! And everyone is going with it! Kidnap and murder, my God. Have we fallen so far?
As the meeting disbanded, Blaise hurried back to her dorm, feeling almost soiled to hear the conspiracy. She sat on her bed, trying to comprehend the scale of what she had just heard. It'll take some time to get everything ready, time I can use to warn them. She didn't particularly like Potter or Chang, but she had no desire to have blood on her hands. She couldn't tell the Headmaster, he was away. The other teachers probably wouldn't believe her, and if Snape heard, he'd turn a blind eye.
At that moment, Blaise made a choice. A choice that would shape her life for years to come. Side with my House, or side with what's right. Either stay with the wolves, or hunt with the sheep. There's no middle ground.