A/N: I wished I owned Harry Potter. Alas, I do not. Ms. Rowling, I'd be happy to take it off your hands
A/N: Just to keep track of the timeline, I had the second task happen on a Sunday, as did the resorting of the Greengrass sisters, later that night. Draco and Harry agreed on the blood duel on a Monday, and the lesson in this chapter is happening on the Sunday following the second task, preceding the duel by a day.
Chapter 47: 4th Year Teacher
March, 1995
"You don't think this has gotten out of hand?" Harry remarked as he looked out at the group. When he had agreed to do this with Hermione, he had expected some friends to show up, no more than 15 people and probably less. Looking out at the veritable sea of people to show up, he felt slightly cheated and more than a little overwhelmed.
"I am sorry about that," Hermione told him, her eyes betraying her contrite nature, and Harry immediately felt guilty for chiding her. "I guess it did get out of hand. To be honest, I have no idea how this spread to begin with."
"I do have this pressing engagement on Monday," Harry reminded her. "So while I was happy to help out and see what you have done, I am fairly busy."
"I know," Hermione replied. "I'm sorry, I really am."
"Forgiven and forgotten," Harry told her, although he felt fatigue holding down his limbs.
"Speaking of that engagement," Hermione started, her voice tinged with worry, "how has your special morning training been going? Neville says you are gone most mornings even before he wakes up at 6:30, and you always arrive back at the end of breakfast looking absolutely exhausted. Are you running a marathon or something like that?"
"Not exactly," Harry said with a half-grin.
"So where have you been going?"
"France, believe it or not," Harry explained quietly, making sure he wasn't overheard. He saw Hermione draw herself up to exclaim at him, so he grabbed her hand quickly. "Please, let's avoid yelling." Harry saw Hermione stop herself, though her eyes still flashed with curiosity and frustration in tandem. "I assume you will want an explanation eventually."
"I would," Hermione answered.
"But we should get started," Harry said as he looked over the crowd, which was starting to get restless. Harry cast a sonorous spell on himself and coughed. "Alright everyone, thank you for coming. I'm Harry, and I'll be your guest instructor for the day." No one laughed at that and Harry sighed. This could be a long afternoon. "I'd like to thank Hermione for helping to set this up."
"Get to the point Potter!" A voice from the crowd called out. "Why are you qualified to teach us? You haven't even taken your owls" Harry's eyes snapped to the noise and his eyebrows rose in surprise as he identified the speaker.
"Well, if it isn't Cassius Warrington. Why don't you come up here and I can demonstrate the lesson for the day?" Warrington strutted up to the platform. Harry didn't know the 7th year Slytherin, but he knew that before the tournament Warrington had been the most likely Slytherin Champion, alongside Adrian Pucey. "You get one chance to back down," Harry said quietly. Warrington's featured hardened and he drew his wand.
"Come and get it!" Harry sighed and snapped his fingers. A long wooden staff appeared in his hands. "A staff?"
"I'd use my hands, but I don't want to hurt you too bad," Harry said, his face devoid of humor. He cast Sonorus again. "One thing I have noticed from observing magical folk is that you always charge forward effectively. In practice, this is tactically sound and you should never back down once a fight starts. Moving back is a tough strategy to implement correctly. But there is one thing that people do not understand as they are supremely confident in their magic. I will endeavor to show you that common mistake." Harry beckoned to his opponent. "Come on now."
Warrington happily accepted the invitation and threw a few silent curses at Harry. A week ago he would not have known the spells, but once again, Harry was simply not the same person he was in the past.
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February, 1995
"So you picked a fight with Malfoy and everyone he is related too," Remus commented.
"That is some of the best nuttshelling I have ever heard," Harry replied
"Why have you decided to show up in France in the middle of the night?" Remus asked, his voice surprisingly mild.
"I was too cocky," Harry admitted. "Someone brought up the fact that if Malfoy Sr. rises to the challenge, he might use the unforgivables. Those I can deal with."
"Really?" Fleur said with a sniff of disdain.
"Yeah. You have to verbally cast an unforgivable. Even if I can't punch Malfoy in that time due to the ban on physical contact, it's easy to dodge. They are also straight-line bolts." Fleur looked at Harry curiously. "It's easy to dodge a spell that can only hit you if you are in line with a wand and only has one point of contact."
"I don't understand," Fleur said. "It's just like every other spell."
"Remus?" Harry assisted his former defense teacher to his feet. They both drew their wands. "Let's be verbal just for clarity's sake."
"Stupefy!" Harry swayed left and the red bolt raced past him. "Stupefy!" Fleur watched in amazement as a long red beam flew out of Remus's wand and Harry jumped back to avoid it. Remus moved his wand and the red beam continued to pursue Harry for a few more seconds before Remus ended the spell.
"I've never seen that before, and I have watched top French Aurors fight," Fleur said in surprise. "What is that?"
"It's an Arabian technique," Harry explained. "Sustained casting. I bet some of the aurors know it, but don't use it that much. I don't know if Malfoy Sr. knows it. Even if he does, there is a reason that even top Aurors don't use it often." Harry pointed to Remus, who was bent over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. "If it doesn't finish a fight, it can drain even the most powerful wizard."
"So the unforgivables are more like the first stupefy," Susan observed.
"Exactly," Harry exclaimed. "Not too hard to deal with. Even sustained casting isn't too hard to dodge, but I wanted to make the distinction between a straight line beam and straight line bolt. But the main reason I'm not worried about an unforgivable is that I know all the incantations. I've seen them all used."
"What?" Remus looked appalled. "When did you have to face these?"
"First of all, every Hogwarts student over third year saw Moody use them in class," Harry said. "Second of all, do you think I just sat around training all of February?" Remus shrugged. "The best way to learn in not in a classroom or dojo. It is on the battlefield."
"That's crazy," Remus shot back.
"Whether or not it is crazy is immaterial," Harry concluded. "I've seen them in battle and I'm not worried about them." Remus did not want to let it go, but Harry continued and he was forced to let it go. "They are slow bolts too. Unforgivables warp your soul every time you cast them, which is why they are in a class of their own. But a cruciatus curse will do less damage than an organ dissolving curse. And I don't know too many dark curses."
"And you think I do?" Remus asked. Harry cocked an eyebrow. "I guess I know more spells than you."
"I'd certainly hope so," Harry said with a smile. "Between you and Sirius, I hope you guys can fire just about every dark curse at me and teach me the counter-curses so I'm ready in a week to counter if I can't dodge, or if some of the curses are too fast to safely dodge. I'll go drag that dog out of bed. Third Floor right?" Harry got a quick nod from Remus before bolting towards the Delacour mansion.
"Sirius isn't alone," Susan commented as Harry vanished into the distance.
"I know," Remus said with a small smile. "Maybe that will teach him to stop running off. Besides, Sirius told me that he gave Harry the talk when he first visited."
"The Talk?" Fleur asked.
"When a mommy and daddy love each other very much," Remus started, and both girls started blushing. "It can't be that bad. I assume that Harry guessed third floor because he can feel the familiar magical power from Sirius. He'll feel the second person there too."
"Remus, am I emitting any magical power now?" Susan asked. "I know you might not have the sensory magic Harry does, but just try and sense it." Remus closed his eyes, but there was only his own magic and the tendrils coming from Fleur.
"How?" Remus asked.
"Bones family secret," Susan said, "but keep in mind my aunt can do it too. She does it unconsciously and she is much better than me. And I'd assume she is with Sirius." Remus's eyes widened and the werewolf couldn't hide a small sinister grin. "Oh boy."
"Sirius, get your rear in gear!" Harry yelled, shoving the door open. He strode into the room confidently and then was brought to a screeching halt. Sirius was lying in bed with no shirt, and next to the bed was a scantily clad Amelia Bones. The suspended head of the DMLE did not have a shirt or pants. Harry had no reaction for a moment and all three people were as still as statues. Then with what could only be described as a squeak Harry rushed out of the room.
A few minutes later Sirius and Amelia, both now fully clothes left the room, seeing Harry sitting across from the door muttering to himself. A whispered conversation between the two rose in intensity but not in volume. Finally Amelia made a harsh motion and walked back into the room. Sirius slid down next to his godson and let the silence stretch.
"So…" Harry managed to say.
"Nice of you to visit," Sirius commented. "We heard from Susan you had returned."
"We being you and Madam Bones?"
"No, everyone here, including the Delacour family."
"You look better Sirius," Harry observed, looking over his godfather.
"Is that really what you want to talk about?"
"You really do look better," Harry protested.
"Well, good food and the love of a good woman will do that," Sirius replied with a chuckle.
"You love her?" Harry asked. Sirius looked a little stunned. "Sirius? You ok?"
"Yeah, just a little surprised." Sirius tugged at his hair nervously. "I guess I do. Well, that makes the rest of my week easier."
"How so?" Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "Sirius," Harry started, "Don't tell me that after less than two months-"
"The clock doesn't start over again," Sirius stated. Harry raised an eyebrow. "We already know each other, and I think we love each other. At least I love her. I loved her when we were teenagers, and trust me, the adult Amelia is an improvement in my eyes."
"What is love like?" Harry inquired. "I mean, I've read about it, heard about it, seen it, but how do you know if you feel it?"
"Oh?"
"Wondering for a friend," Harry hastily claimed, and Sirius chuckled.
"Well, I can only speak to my own experience," Sirius confessed. "But for me, it was something that developed over time. But once it hits, it courses through you like the water of a river after a storm, filling and emptying you all at once. Making you want to be a better man and person. You feel it throughout your body, in your hands, in your heart, in your skin, and in your mind."
"You want to be her savoir, like she is yours. You get nervous when she is not around, you get angry when you see other men with her, even if they are your best friend. The only time you feel happy and complete is when she is with you. You are everything with her, and nothing without her. That, to me, is love. That is Amelia to me, Harry. Do you feel this way about someone, Harry? Have you ever felt this way?"
"I don't think so," Harry conceded after a long pause. "Maybe, if I think about it-"
"If you have to think about it," Sirius interjected, "you have not felt it." Harry nodded slowly. "Bleh. This is too heavy. I know we don't know each other well enough to talk about this, but maybe, in time."
"Please," Harry said as they helped each other to their feet. "You are the only adult male in my life who has a functioning relationship. If you can't help me, who can?"
"What about Akira?" Sirius asked they started walking down the stairs towards the entrance of the house. "I assume he could give some good advice."
"Arranged marriage," Harry said.
"Really?" Sirius gasped. "Never would have guessed. Who knew."
"I did," Harry shot back, and his godfather threw an arm around him. "But it's surprising I know. I only met Takashi-San's wife once, and they seemed madly in love. But if you don't mind…"
"You can come to me with anything," Sirius stated confidently. "I may not have been here for you before, but now, I promise, I am not going anywhere."
"Well, I'm happy to hear you say that," Harry commented. "You won't believe how my first day back at school went."
As they walked back to Remus, Sirius's face best resembled a fish that had been stabbed multiple times. Harry could tell his godfather was equal parts impressed and horrified by yet another crazy day in the life that was Harry Potter. Eventually Harry managed to calm Sirius down and the two marauders took stances across from each other.
"Moony hasn't been locked up for years, so he will be performing the counter curses," Sirius explained, drawing his wand. "We'll start with the bone-breaking hex." Sirius raised his wand a purple bolt shot out, and Remus flicked the bolt to the side. "One more time?" Harry nodded and Sirius attacked again.
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March, 1995
A week ago, Harry would have thrown himself out of the way of the unknown curses. Three days ago, Harry might have tried to knock the spells away with his wand. But the Harry prepared for his duel the next day easily spun his staff around, catching all three in a blur of wood. The crowd was stunned into shocked silence, and Warrington stood there with his mouth open. Whatever people has expected, it wasn't that.
Harry took a half step forward and snapped the staff at the older student. It cracked off his ribs and startled him into a yelp. Harry gave a half smile at that. Harry knew that if he had swung the staff with any force, he probably could have broken every rib, but even intending to do no damage, sometimes it was hard to control his strength.
"Is that all?" Harry forced a cocky smile onto his face, mainly to antagonize Warrington. The tactic worked and three more spells, all certainly of the "darker" variety raced towards Harry. His first instinct was to use the staff to redirect the spells but that would not prove the point Harry was trying to make when he agreed to teach a lesson.
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March, 1995 (two days earlier)
"Hermione, I'm not even qualified to teach Neville martial arts, and he has been working with Akira for months! I can't walk into a room and teach people how to punch! It's a waste of time."
"Harry! You promised you would teach me some stuff, and I let it slip to Luna." Harry gave a half growl. "You know how Luna is. I told her not to tell anyone, and then when everyone started asking about it, Luna just said that the crumpled-horn something told them."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. What was funny with Luna was that Krum had clearly come to the realization that some of the creatures she made up were, to some degree, fictional. They seemed to be in a state of flux, where Luna was making up creatures so fantastical that Krum had to admit that the time they spent together had less and less to do with creature research every day.
"So?" Harry shrugged. "Harry!" Hermione shouted. "You never go back on a promise."
"It wasn't a big deal with you," Harry explained. "But even if I did this, I doubt seventh years would take to kindly to being taught by a fourth year."
"You are a school champion!"
"Unwillingly!"
"Harry!" Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "Stop looking for a way out of this!"
"Do you have any suggestions! I'm all ears." Harry was inches away from Hermione, his eyes blazing in frustration.
"I might have a suggestion." Harry and Hermione swiveled in dual anger towards the person who dare interject in their fight. Hermione's ire instantly dissipated when she saw professor Flitwick standing there. "I have heard around school that Harry is planning to teach a lesson two days from now, on Sunday? Is it advisable to do this a day before you have a dangerous duel?"
"It was just to be me and Hermione, maybe a few others," Harry admitted. "It has gotten out of hands."
"Yes it has," Flitwick commented. "Just today I approached Dumbledore about using the great hall, and was coming to find you to ask if you could accommodate more than 50 students."
"50!" Harry exclaimed.
"Closer to 100, actually," Flitwick replied. "Whether or not you see yourself as a school champion is irrelevant. You have always had a role you have held in Britain's wizarding society as a larger than life figure. However, this year, you have combined the legend with newfound power and skill. Things that make older students wonder if you truly had the power to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and performances that put you on a pedestal for younger students."
"You were always talented, Mr. Potter. A Patronus that can drive off hundreds of dementors is the mark of a truly powerful wizard." Harry avoided Flitwick's eyes. Clearly, the diminutive professor had heard a garbled story of the night of Sirius's first escape, but did not know the details. Despite Harry's ability to keep his emotions from his face, the safer course of action was to look away.
"But that was an isolated incident. I think that it's fair to say that most of your classwork has been good, but not great." Harry nodded ruefully. "Certainly not up to the standard of Miss. Granger here." Hermione blushed and gave a tiny yelp. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss. Granger."
"Not in the slightest!" Harry proclaimed, giving Hermione an honest smile to show he agreed with Flitwick.
"But this year, I can say with utter certainty that if you moved into my N.E.W.T. charms classes you would be one of the top students when it comes to practical work. Minerva has also told me that you have shown incredible skill when you two work together and has mentioned she would like to come to some of your sessions to work on some advanced spell combinations that I learned from my time as a dueling champion. Also, your martial arts prowess means that you could perhaps defeat me in a duel with no restrictions. I dare say you might prove a challenging match for Dumbledore."
"Professor, surely you must be joking," Hermione said. To her surprise, Harry just looked pensive, but not overly troubled. Harry couldn't possibly believe that, could he? Dumbledore was...well he was Dumbledore!
"Maybe I am overexaggerating a little. But Harry wouldn't be the first student to be on the same level of strength as a professor. Though he might be the only fourth year, I do not know any fourth years who have trained by Nambung Sa-Bum." Harry gave a start at the realization that Professor Flitwick knew the name of his master. His hand even started to inch towards his holster.
"How do you know that name?" Harry asked, his muscles tensing in anticipation of action.
"Harry, I was a champion duelist. The name of people like your master came up occasionally. Trust me, I bear no ill-will towards the Lord of Lightning." Harry relaxed a little at that. If Flitwick knew his master as the Lord of Lightning, there was no reason to worry.
"Lord of Lightning?" Hermione was clearly stumped. "Who is that?" Flitwick and Harry looked at each other, both holding back a small laugh.
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, and while Hermione looked like she wanted to ask more questions, she allowed it to pass. "I believe we have gotten off topic. Professor Flitwick, I believe you had an idea for my lesson on Sunday?" Harry used air quotes for the word lesson, as that seemed to fit as well as "teacher" for his Patronus classes earlier in the year, even though lesson sounded as weird as teacher.
"Yes, I did. Would you perhaps show the idea to Minerva, myself, and some of the older students you are friends with, as well as a few from your year?"
"I mean, I could," Harry hesitantly replied. "Why?"
"Well, if we are going to have all seven years represented, as well as older students from other schools, it seems best to have them taught by appropriate years," Flitwick began to explain. "Therefore, Minerva and I would see your idea, and we could teach the N.E.W.T level students. Perhaps your friends Mr. Krum and Miss. Delacour, along with Hogwarts's own Mr. Diggory, could help the fourth and fifth year students. Then you and a few of your friends, perhaps Miss. Granger and Mr. Weasley could work with third year and down."
"That's a good idea!" Hermione exclaimed, but her exuberance was tempered by the look Harry had in his eyes. He looked physically ill. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's a good idea," Harry said, though his heart was clearly in it. Then a realization hit Hermione like a thunderbolt.
"It's Ron, isn't it?"
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, a little more firmly. "Professor, that's a good idea. How does 11am in the charms classroom sound, to show you and Professor McGonagall?"
"Excellent, Mr. Potter. I shall look forward to it."
"Professor?" Harry called out to the half-goblin as he walked away. Flitwick turned back to hear Harry's parting comment. "Harry is fine." Flitwick raised an eyebrow. "No need for the Potter. Just Harry."
"Very well, just Harry," Flitwick said with a little laugh as he walked away.
"Harry," Hermione said, putting her hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Have you still not made up with Ron?"
"It's not so much that," Harry said. "I have no issue with Ron anymore. But you know how I have run around the last few days to catch up with all my friends?" Hermione nodded. "Ron wasn't on that list. He hasn't even been on that list since the goblet. I'm fine without him, maybe even better off. I don't feel bad for leaving him behind. But that makes me feel bad."
"What?"
"I feel bad because I don't feel bad for ditching our friendship." Hermione just squeezed Harry's shoulder in comfort. "Sorry to drop that on you, I know you and Ron are still close."
"Harry, look at me," Hermione said, grabbing Harry's head and turning him to look him in the eyes. "No matter what context, romantic, friendship, schoolwork, or even just to talk about quidditch, I want you to know, it is always you over Ron." Harry tried to look away from the raw emotion in Hermione's eyes, but she kept him locked on her. "Always you, Harry." Then she looked away, both of them a little uncomfortable with the depth of feeling Hermione had put into that statement.
"So, do you want to get Hannah and Dean then?" Harry finally said. Hermione accepted the blatant change of subject. "If one of them is busy, maybe Daphne?"
"And you are going to get the older students?" Harry nodded. "Sounds good. Hey Harry?" Hermione called after Harry. "If you are going to be teaching all seven years, won't you have to come up with something everyone can do?" Harry's eyes widened at that, and he looked flummoxed. Then a big smile broke out over his face.
"I'll just figure it out on the fly," Harry said with his smile now unreserved. "When has that ever gone wrong for us?"
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March, 1995
This time Harry dodged the spells, slipping to his right the moment the first spell was fired and swinging the staff along the ground. The moment the third spell impacted the wall behind him, the older Slytherin's feet were impacted by the staff and he was unceremoniously dumped on his back.
"Thank you, Mr. Warrington," Harry said, walking past him to stand in front of the assembled crowd. "Can someone tell me what he did wrong?" Harry felt the build up of magic behind him and didn't even to look as he thrust the staff backwards. He felt impact and heard a cry of pain. "Never forget about your opponent. We can work on that another time." Harry turned and there was a challenge in his eyes. "Unless you'd like to continue?" There was hate in Warrington's eyes, but he was also on the ground in pain, so Harry left him alone. "Anyone?" Harry saw a hand raise slowly near the back of the assembled students. Harry gave a tiny wave of his hand to his grandmother, who looked towards the hands.
"Miss Roberts?" A girl with a badger on her robes stepped forward, the crowd around her seemed to part. Harry estimated she was probably a third year, as she wasn't in his year. He would ask Luna later.
"I might know," the girl said, and then seemed to shrink into herself as every eye in the room fixed itself on her. Harry glanced at his grandmother again and mouthed who. Minnie nodded and mouthed back Michelle.
"Michelle," Harry called and the girl whipped around to stare at Harry. Harry silently thanked his grandmother as he squared up to the girl. "What do you think?" Unsurprisingly, the girl seemed terrified of speaking now, and Harry reprimanded himself silently. He had assumed an older and more confident student would speak up first, but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrasses a younger student, either by calling her answer blatantly wrong or stunning her into silence.
"Maybe," Michelle managed to speak, "Maybe he wasn't thinking?" Harry nodded encouragingly. The girl was very close to the answer. She was much more intuitive than he was as a third year, Harry realized. "He just attacked you."
"What should he have done?" Harry asked, trying to get her to say a little more, but she just ducked her head. It had taken all of her Gryffindor courage to say those few words, and she was done now. Give her points, Harry mouthed to Minnie.
"Ten Points to Hufflepuff, Miss Roberts," Professor McGonagall called, and the girl looked ecstatic.
"Very good, Michelle," Harry added. "That is what Cassius did." The seventh year Slytherin had departed the stage and glared at Harry for the use of his first name, but Harry simply didn't care about sparing his feelings or being respectful. Any other wizard in the school would have been seriously hurt if they had been hit in the back by the blood boiling curse that had been building on his wand before Harry hit him. "So what should he have done?"
"Been prepared for you to beat him?" There were scattered laughs through the crowd as Harry focused on the speaker, a girl in Beauxbatons robes.
"Close," Harry said with a smile. "But the two of you are heading in the right direction. Harry saw Neville smile at him. It didn't surprise Neville knew the right answer, it was a basic martial arts principle. But he didn't want to show favoritism, and would have loved it if someone he wasn't friends with could answer.
"Did he have to prepare for what to do if his attacks didn't work?" A voice called out from the back. Harry gave a tiny fist pump at that.
"Miss Stanley?" Professor Flitwick An older girl in a Slytherin robe stepped forward. This time Harry glanced at Daphne, who mouthed Seventh Year.
"Exactly!" Harry crowed in triumph. "Cassius just attacked. It was a good attack, three tough spells in quick succession, all that would have hit me. But they were all in the same spot? What if I dodged the first? What if I tried to counter? The only move he thought through was his attack. He didn't consider any of the actions I could take if the fight continued. Sure, his strategy would have worked if his first curse hit me. But whether it be a fight or duel, you have to consider a variety of outcomes."
"Thank you for the demonstration," Professor Flitwick called out.
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Warrington" Harry said tonelessly, giving a few sarcastic claps. "Now, let's work on this principle in smaller groups. Sixth and Seventh years, you will be with Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall in the far corner. Fourth and Fifth Years, with Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum and Diggory over there. First through third years, you guys come here." As the groups split up and the younger students crowded around him, Harry had a thought strike him that had him smiling.
"What is it?" Hannah asked as she took her place to the side of him. His other two "teaching assistants," Dean and Neville were at the back of the group.
"Some of them are less than a year younger than me," Harry commented in a quiet voice so only Hannah could hear him, "but don't they look a little like ducklings?" Hannah gave Harry a friendly swat on the head. "Ok. Hannah, did you bring them?" Hannah nodded and pulled from her robe a bundle of sticks. The four older students paired up the younger ones, and then created 10 paces between each student. Hannah then tossed the sticks in between the students and with an incantation and a flick of her wand, the sticks started to turn into mats. Harry, Dean and Neville followed suit, and soon there was a mat for every pair.
"Now, I'd like you to switch off. No more than three spells. And remember, before you start, create a plan in your head. If it isn't working, don't be afraid to switch it up. It is much better to take your time and make each of your spells effective then it is to throw them as fast as you can." The students nodded earnestly at the advice. "Ok. Left side first."
For the next hour Harry roamed around the students. He first focused on students who were not casting spells properly. He corrected form, stance, wand movement, incantation, and focus. This was easier to do, and around him he seemed to see Neville, Dean, and Hannah doing the same. Soon the first through third years had limited problems casting their admittedly small repertoire of offensive and defensive spells.
After the casting was performing better, it was time to make sure the point of the lessen was driven home. After watching a pair for a few minutes (and Harry made sure not to make his observation obvious to the younger years, as they would get flustered when they realized his eyes were on them) Harry would step in and talk for a few minutes, trying to guide the students to get to the correct answer on their own.
Sweating a little from the action, Harry looked down at his watch and his eyes bugged out. The hour had flown by, and Charlie's dragon lecture was in an hour. He had not missed a single one while at Hogwarts, and he was not about to stop now.
"Attention, Attention!" Harry bellowed out, and the room turned to him. "I think we have reached the end of our time." To his surprise, he heard a few exclamations of annoyance, and more than a few who seemed legitimately upset that the session was already over. "Professor Weasley's dragon lecture is starting soon, and I do not plan to miss it. Hope you all enjoy the rest of your weekend."
As students started to file out of the great hall, Harry and his fellow year mates rolled up the mats and floated them over to the raised platform Harry had done his demonstration on. They were chatting happily about how the class had gone, but Harry had a slightly sour look and stood away from the group as the older students and teachers added their transfigured mats to the pile.
"I thought that went well," McGonagall said as she looked over the student teachers. "It was a good lesson for all ages." Harry just grunted and stared off into the distance.
"Very well indeed." Most of the students and teachers turned and saw Dumbledore approaching, a broad smile on his face. "The students seem to enjoy themselves."
"In fact, most of them were mad Harry stuck with the youngest group," Cedric joked. Harry didn't even bother responding. "Harry? You ok?"
"He's fine," McGonagall said, moving in between the group and her grandson. "He just mentally preparing?"
"That takes a day?" Hannah asks.
"If he has to kill his opponent, it takes a lifetime," Dean responded. There were somber nods and eventually even the student teachers left, leaving only Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dumbledore.
"Can I help you, headmaster?" McGonagall's voice was icy cold.
"Minerva, there is no need for the hostility," Dumbledore said. Flitwick stared at the Gryffindor Head of House and the Headmaster. They had always to be in sync and supportive of each other, but now he could literally sense the anger rolling of his good friend Minerva. What's more, instead of the headmaster's normal relaxed temperament, Albus seemed annoyed and disconcerted by the transfiguration teacher's attitude.
"If you don't need anything-"
"I'd actually appreciate it if I could have a moment with Harry," Dumbledore interjected. Minerva turned her nose up at him and moved a little to the side. "Alone, if you don't mind."
"I do mind," Minerva shot back. Flitwick saw Harry turn and place an arm on McGonagall's. The older women turned to him, and he just gave a gentle nod. Minerva leaned in a whispered something, and then she strode out of the room. Flitwick glanced at Harry, who stared at the headmaster stoically, and then retreated after his friend.
"That was quite an impressive class Harry. You certainly have a talent for teaching."
"Thank you headmaster," Harry replied mechanically.
"The young students can be challenging, but you did a great job engaging them.
"Oh, they weren't so bad," Harry said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice or the smile off his face.
"Would you consider making the class a weekly addition to our curriculum? I'm sure that Professor Hayashi and Moody would be happy to help out."
"To be honest I wasn't planning any of this," Harry admitted. "It spiraled out of control. Ask me again in a few days, and I'll think about it."
"Very good, very good." Dumbledore mumbled, half to Harry and half to himself.
"If that's all?"
"Harry, my boy, I believe we must talk about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"Your ill-advised blood feud with Mr. Malfoy." Harry faced twisted into an angry snarl. "You do not understand the full connotation of this duel. I am sure that wiser heads can prevail and-"
"No, headmaster, you are the one who does not understand," Harry snapped. "I will not be swayed in this. Your invitation is purely as an official of the Wizengamot and to start the spell that creates the shields until one party is unable to continue."
"Harry, I insist-"
"You will insist nothing." Harry was visibly incensed. "Headmaster You called Draco Mr. Malfoy," Harry pointed out. "You WILL extend me the same curtesy in the future." Dumbledore reared back at the pure vitriol in the young Gryffindor's voice. "If that's all?" Harry left without waiting for an answer. Dumbledore sighed as he watched the young champion leave.
He suspected that Harry knew the worst case scenario for who he might fight. What's worse, that worse case scenario would not surrender, nor would Harry be allowed to surrender. That fight would only end with the death of one of the participants. Dumbledore was loath to let Harry die in the fight.
But if Harry was stubborn, Dumbledore could not interfere. There was nothing he could do, even with all his influence, to stop a blood-duel. Albus had managed to convince Severus not to champion Draco, but it turned out that Severus was only the second to the real champion for Draco. Harry's opponent would be a far more dangerous foe. It was not that Severus was not a capable wizard. In fact, in many ways Severus was stronger than Harry's opponent. But Harry had never fought in a fight like this before.
In the back of his mind, Dumbledore knew there was an even darker possibility. That Harry killed his opponent and discovered he liked the taste of causing pain and killing. That he had a talent unlike a brilliant student all those years ago. And Dumbledore promised himself that while he may have allowed for the rise of one dark lord, he would not preside over another. No matter the personal cost.
The next morning at breakfast anyone who was even remotely close to Harry stopped by at least once to offer him a word of encouragement or support. Through all of it, Harry stayed unmoved. Even Hermione on one arm, Fleur on the opposite arm, or Neville across from him could only get the barest response from him.
"Potter," Snape sneered at the boy. "It is time. I assume you have no second." The potions professor was wearing the formal dueling robes with the Malfoy crest on his right shoulder.
"What?" Harry said. "No, I have a second."
"That reprobate Black?" Severus sneered. "Unless he is your champion, he will be kissed on sight."
"And of course, there are dementors here because of Draco's champion," Harry claimed. Snape's eyes widened. "Ah, so Sirius and Remus were right. Draco was indeed desperate, and daddy Malfoy was a coward." Severus hissed at Harry. "Oh, I guess you are a coward too." Snape's face flushed, and Harry watched in surprise as Snape slowly drew his wand.
"The robes of a second, Snape?" Severus whirled to face the older woman entering the hall. "I would be happy to oblige you if Draco's champion cannot fight."
"Auntie!" Susan sprung from the table and raced to hug her aunt. "What are you doing here?"
"Did Harry not tell you?" Amelia said with a smile of a young girl. "I recently had a change in my status." Susan looked at her aunt with surprise, and then she glanced down. What could only be classified as a shriek of excitement came from Susan as her aunt raised her hand.
"Oh my god, auntie!" Susan held up Amelia's hand. "He proposed?" The Gryffindor table erupted into whispered, as did the other nearby tables though not with as much fervor.
"I sent in my permeant resignation from the DMLE yesterday. We were thinking about a summer wedding." Susan nodded excitedly.
"I'm so happy for you two, after all this time."
"I fail to see why you are here or why you would fight me," Snape stated, his voice icy cold.
"You need a course in pureblood etiquette, potions master," Amelia said. "Not surprising for someone of your standard. You are standing in for Draco as the second. If the challenged has anyone who is related by wizarding law, but not by blood stand for them, then the same right is extended to the challenger." Amelia ripped the top of her cloak's shoulder, revealing the black crest. "You should tell Lord Malfoy that Lady Black will be more than happy to teach him a lesson in manners if he steps into the ring."
"It's not Lucuis, or Narcissa," Harry said. "It's the worst possible option." Amelia paled and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, I should take your place."
"No," Harry stated. "Nobody should take my place. This isn't about pride, or dignity, or even Malfoy's words anymore. Even though I will make him sign that damn contract when I win. This is about justice. Justice for everyone hurt by that monster." For just a second, Harry's brilliant green eyes, harder than anyone had ever seen, flickered and replacing them was something blood red. But then green was back, and Neville figured it must have been a trick of the light as Harry rose and left the hall with his godfather's fiancé.