A/N: So here is the next chapter. Again, nothing really HAPPENS, but I hope you'll enjoy the scenes nevertheless. Thanks for all the reviews – You'll still not learn about the DADA teacher, and I must say I quite a good laugh at some of your suggestions. Let me say this much: Students cannot be teachers, can they?

Enjoy and keep those reviews coming!

Chapter 11 Eager to learn

Harry would never have expected he would come to miss Privet Drive some day, but this was exactly what he found himself thinking after being cooped up in the old house for – he couldn't even have said how long, he had lost count of the days that had passed since his arrival. One day passed much as any other, he was never allowed outside and if it had not been for Mrs Weasley's indefatigable cleaning spirits, he would probably have died of boredom long ago. It was true, of course, that he was glad to have his two best friends with him, but even with your two best friends there are only so many things you can talk about over an interminable day.

"You must be extremely careful, Harry," Arthur Weasley had impressed on him more than once, "not to use any magic whatsoever. This house may be protected by very clever hiding charms, but we have no way of knowing if the Ministry wouldn't still detect the use of underage magic nevertheless. You-Know-Who is sure to have his spies there and would know at once, and protected though it may be, this place would not stand a chance against a massive Death Eater attack."

Sirius, who had been forced to remain in hiding in the house for more than a year now, knew how Harry felt, and he came up with an idea.

"Who says you have to use magic?" He said to Harry one morning, and his boyish grin made his gaunt face appear years younger. "Why not practise defence the Muggle way? You never know when it may come in handy. It might even give you an advantage over a wizard who expects you to use magic…"

He led the three friends down a flight of stairs into a huge vault in the sub-basement, below the kitchen. The damp walls were of rough hewn rock, clearly centuries older than the rest of the house, adorned with rusty iron rings and chains. It was not a cosy place.

"I don't even want to know what they used this place for in the olden days," Sirius said, "But it will come in handy for our purposes."

He conjured a couple of fencing foils with a flick of his wand and tossed each of them one. "Good thing I CAN use magic, eh? Yes, this is how you fight without magic. And it can be just as deadly, believe me."

"Wow, this is cool," Ron said, his eyes shining. "So this is how Muggles fight?"

"USED to fight, Ron," Hermione remarked, somewhat condescendingly. "A couple of hundreds of years ago… Sorry, Sirius," she added, seeing his disappointed look. "It's a beautiful sport, and trains your reflexes and everything, but it's not exactly the most effective way of killing among Muggles nowadays. But I guess there is no harm in learning it, it will occupy all of us until term starts, and that's something."

She had been fiddling idly with her rapier during this speech, and so it came as a complete surprise when she suddenly jumped into fencing position and aimed it at Sirius' chest.

"En garde!" she shouted, and laughed happily at his perplexed face.

"Wow," Ron said again, gaping at her open mouthed, and Harry added, "You never cease to amaze me, Hermione!"

"Where – where did you learn that?" Sirius gasped, after recovering from the shock.

"My parents wanted me to take up some sport when I was smaller, I suspect they dreamed of me as a ballet dancer. Well this is the closest to dancing I ever got. And you must admit it's quite an elegant set of movements."

And she gave them a skilled and graceful demonstration of attack, foil and reposte.

"I can do that too," stated Ron proudly. He grabbed his foil in his fist and swung it in what he imagined to be an elegant sweeping motion, and it was only with a desperate leap backwards that Hermione escaped the sharp point.

"Careful!" She yelled. "These are SHARP weapons, not toys!"

"Oh, I quite forgot," said Sirius, quite embarrassed. And he quickly cast a spell on the rapiers to make their points blunt.

Ron, whose face gave an interesting spectacle of changing between flaming red and deadly white, was only able to utter indistinct sounds.

"This isn't any use, Sirius," Hermione said in her best authoritarian manner. "He doesn't even know how to HOLD this thing, and looking at the two of you, I'm not sure you do. We need someone to demonstrate and teach us."

"Well, couldn't you…" Harry began.

"No I couldn't. I've just been learning the absolute basics, what we need is a real expert. There isn't at least a library – o stop grinning Ron! – I mean you don't at least have some books on fencing in this house, have you?"

"No," replied Sirius, "But there's something much better we can do…"

He frowned in concentration, then moved his wand and muttered an indistinct spell of which they could just understand Accio.

There was a swish in the air and a large painting in a heavy gilded frame materialised on the wall.

"One of the best swordmasters of his time and age," Sirius said proudly. "Meet my ancestor Sieur Porthos de Noir. As you can see, he is just in the process of fighting Cardinal Richelieu's men…"

And indeed, the picture showed a tall, handsome man in the blue musketeer's cloak defending himself against three burly thug-like enemies in red.

"Bon jour, Porthos," Sirius addressed the musketeer.

"Ah, cousin," the man in the picture replied pleasantly. And then he added to his attackers, "Excusez-moi, mes amis, I have to attend to family business. We shall continue later."

And indeed, the three men in red nodded, sheathed their swords and sat down below a tree in the background of the picture, where they started a game of cards.

"Tedious business this," Porthos said calmly. "It's a pleasure talking to you again, Sirius, but won't you introduce me to your young friends?"

After suitable introductions, during which Sieur Porthos expressed his sincere regrets at not being able to step out of his picture and kiss Hermione's hand properly (which caused Hermione to blush a deep shade of red), the ancient musketeer continued.

"Now, how can I be of service?"

"We were just wondering," Sirius told him, "If you could teach us all in the noble art of fencing."

"Seeing as you are – were – the greatest expert of your time," Ron, who had found his speech fastest, added.

"Well, I do believe I'm not all that bad," Porthos said with a grin, trying in vain to look modest. "Not as if I'd ever need all my skills against those miserable amateurs-"he indicated the three men in the background, "but still I think you can learn a thing or two if you watch us closely."

He gave a shrill whistle and waved to the others, who, somewhat reluctantly, stopped their card game and slowly moved forward.

"Messieurs," he said, bowing to them in an exaggerated mocking way. "Before we commence our pastime, let me introduce you to my noble cousin, - if cousin be the right word for one who was born four hundred years after our time, - the most honourable Sirius Black, and his young friends. Cousin, these three worthy gentlemen have had the pleasure of fighting me ever since this painting was done in 1534. I must confess we have become rather attached to each other during all these centuries. Now, mes amis, my cousin Sirius desires to learn more about the noble art of fencing…"

The next minutes were a fascinating show of the basic tricks of swordfighting, and they all, - perhaps except for Hermione, who was at least familiar with some of the techniques, - had quite a hard time trying to remember even the simplest movements. Ron, for example, even found it quite difficult to understand that the fencing foil was not gripped in the fist, but delicately balanced between thumb and index finger, while Sirius, with his straightforward energy, was criticised severely for not being flexible enough. Only Hermione found acceptance in the strict eyes of their teacher.

"Mademoiselle is extremely gifted in the art," Sieur Porthos said politely, causing Hermione to blush profusely again, "indeed, if I were not just a memory on canvas…"

He left the sentence unfinished, and Ron looked somewhat annoyed at the dreamy expression on Hermione's face.

During the following weeks, under the critical eye of Sieur Porthos, they practised regularly for two hours in the morning and in the afternoon, and even if, with the exception of Hermione, none of them could ever satisfy the ancient musketeer's standards, they learned to use the fencing foil more or less satisfactorily.

"You would not last a minute against a real expert, of course," Porthos told them one evening, after they had finished their training and stood, panting and sweating, in front of the painting, "But as I hear, the noble art of fencing has fallen into some deplorable disregard during the last couple of centuries. So you'll perhaps stand a fair chance, and if you run into someone not familiar with the technique, even more than that… Mademoiselle, however,-" here he bowed to Hermione with a graceful wave of his feathered hat, - "let me just once more express my deepest regret that I am unable to leave this painting; I doubt that there is anything I can still teach you this way. But I advise you to find a teacher in the real world to help you reach the perfection that your talent deserves…"

"Merci," Hermione whispered meekly, blushing once again.

Dear Mademoiselle Delacour,

We are glad to inform you that your application for a transfer to Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft has been accepted by the school board. You will be attending regular lessons and will take the final NEWT examination in the end of the school year. As the Beauxbatons institute has confirmed, your test results at the Hogwarts NEWTs will be fully acknowledged by them.

According to the current state of your school career, you have been assigned to the following NEWT classes:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

Transfiguration

Charms

Potions

Herbology

Ancient Runes

Please note that all these courses are in their second year, so there is a possibility that subject matter is required that you are not familiar with, due to differences in the respective curricula. Should such be the case, inform your head of house immediately. You will understand that no exceptions or allowances can be made in this respect, and it will be entirely your responsibility to deal with such a situation.

You are requested to arrive at Hogwarts on September first, no later than six o'clock, to be sorted in your house, together with the first year students. We regret if this causes you any inconvenience, but school regulations require this sorting.

Enlosed, find a list of the books required.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

"Now, are you still afraid it's a dream?" Vivienne asked her granddaughter, after reading the letter that had just arrived.

"Let's say I'm just starting to believe it," said Fleur. "Oh I can't wait! How long is it?"

"You've been asking this three times every day the past weeks," her grandmother smiled. "As of today, it's ten days, eight hours and thirty-five minutes."

"Stop making fun of me!"

"Well, it's hard to resist, you know. But, to help you pass the time, why don't I try and teach you a few more things?"

"What things?"

"To make the best of your Veela roots, of course. You can already assume your bird persona, which is a really great step, so it would be interesting to see if you can unearth some other Veela skills and put them to use."

"You don't mean that awful Veela charm that caused me so much trouble for five years? Now that I'm so happy it's finally gone?"

"Yes, I do, indeed – Don't pull such a face, cherie, I know how you feel about it. But this will be completely different, you know. Formerly, you had no influence on it at all, and this is what caused all the trouble, but now things would be very different: You would have full control over it, and could switch it on and off, as well as aim it, as you like, just like a full Veela can."

"I'm not sure, grandma, it sounds so much like cheating, toying with people's feelings… I hate the idea."

"I understand you well, and it does you credit, too. But then, it would be entirely up to you whether to use your ability or not. And it would be a terrible waste not to develop a power that can be so useful. After all, Vous-savez-quis is back, you saw it yourself…"

Fleur sighed deeply.

"You are right as always. So I guess you'd better start your teaching right away. Also," she added, grinning weekly, "perhaps it won't work, anyway…"

"That's my girl," Vivienne said approvingly. "But I wouldn't put my hope into this chance, you see."

Dear Minister,

This is just to inform you that I have been successful in finding a highly competent teacher for the vacant position. The services of your esteemed assistant Dolores Umbridge consequently will not be required.

I am certain that you will be satisfied with this development, as her valuable work at the Ministry naturally is more important than a simple teaching job. I entreat you to give my regards to her.

I trust this finds you in good health,

Albus Dumbledore

Very red in the face, Cornelius Fudge tossed the letter down on his desk, thus disturbing the beautiful symmetry of papers on it.

"The impudence!" he grumbled. "Who does he think he is?"

"And he does not even say who that new teacher is," Dolores Umbridge, her toadlike face contorted to a grimace even uglier than usual, added. "Probably another werewolf, or something."

"Why not a giant or a vampire, while he's at it? He's always had a foible for such creatures…

No, Dolores, I can't accept the man's actions. You will have to go to Hogwarts to see what's going on…"

"But in what function, Minister?" The simpering tone in her voice only partly hid her eagerness.

"I – well, erm… you'll be the Ministry's High Inquisitor for Educational Affairs."

"It sounds lovely, Minister, but – what's that?"

"Erm- wait a minute… yes, it's something we still have to create. Don't worry, I'll pass some decree or other… my secretary, Screwtape, is quite skilled at this sort of thing. These goblins usually are. Trust them to compose legal documents that nobody except themselves can understand."

"But, Minister, if nobody can understand it, then-"

"No problem, Dolores, naturally, as Screwtape will be the only one to understand the decree, it will also be his job to interpret it…"

Her bright grin almost split her face in two.

"Ah, NOW I see… If I may say so, Minister, you are a genius!"

"Oh, don't, Dolores, you're embarrassing me!" Fudge said with a particularly nasty smirk.

"Everything is working according to plan, I am very satisfied with your achievements, Wormtail. The old fool has no idea that he is playing into our hands. Yes, a very convincing performance, even if that idiot almost messed it up when the dementor escaped his control. But he has been punished…"

"Yes, my Lord," the little man with the silver hand said. "I saw to it personally."

"Ah, don't make it sound like that, I know you enjoy this sort of thing, my friend, even though your inclination tends to carry you away sometimes… Yes, it is all running smoothly; even the Minister, the blessed moron, works for us, even though he has no idea of it… I guarantee, Wormtail, you will have plenty of opportunities to amuse yourself… And who am I to stand in your way, my one most trusted servant?"

"Than you, my Lord, you are too generous."

"As long, naturally, as you do not lose sight of the greater goal, that is," Voldemort added with a mirthless grin, in a voice that sent shivers down Wormtail's spine.

A/N: A tiny bit shorter than usual, but I promise to make up for it in the next chapter, which will take them all to Hogwarts, at last!

Question to the attentive reader: Where does Screwtape come from?