HARRY

There was immediate silence among the students waiting outside the door.

"Inside," he said.

The students filed in, and Harry looked around as they entered. The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was transformed each year due to the constant change in teachers; this year, Snape had imposed upon it a dark, gloomy atmosphere with the thick curtains drawn. Harry had not even noticed there were curtains in the classroom before now.

Most disturbing of all, however, was the framed pictures decorating the walls. They depicted suffering and pain, people with contorted body parts and gruesome injuries. The strange shadows cast upon them from the sallow candlelight weakly lighting the room did nothing to alleviate the ominousness. The students looked at them nervously as they took their seats.

"Hades," Percy muttered from next to Hermione. "Really, though."

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the students from his desk at the front of the room. Hermione dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair hastily, cheeks slightly pink. "I wish to speak with you, and preferably with your undivided attention."

His eyes roved over all the students. They seemed to linger for a beat too long on Harry before he spoke.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

You believe, like you haven't watched them come and go, each time hoping you'd be next, Harry thought bitterly. He really was hoping that the pattern would continue and Snape would be gone before the year was out.

"Naturally, each of these teachers had their own teaching methods and priorities. I am surprised many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this class due to the confusion; I shall be further shocked should all of you be able to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape began pacing, moving slowly along the row of desks in the front, and he continued in an even lower tone. The class strained to catch all his words.

"The Dark Arts are many, varied, unfixed, and eternal. They are more complex and intricate than any of you may even begin to comprehend. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster which sprouts constantly two new heads for every one you sever, each more vicious and deadly than the previous. You are fighting that which is invincible, ever-moving, ever-changing, mutating and building."

Percy perked up. "Like a hydra? They're so annoying."

Snape stopped pacing. Locating the speaker, he glared at Percy with what should have been a terrifying gaze, but the transfer student did not flinch. Once again, Harry felt a strong sense of respect towards him; not many students dared to interrupt Snape and look him in the eye.

"What?" the professor said, voice dangerously low.

Percy did not take the hint to silence. "A hydra. You just described one, I mean." He shrugged. "I'm just saying… sir," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Snape was unamused. "Name?"

That was strange, Harry thought. He had recognised Percy at the gates; did he simply forget?

"Percy. Percy Jackson, sir," Percy said; if Snape's aim had been to make him uncomfortable, he was thoroughly unaffected.

"Ah, yes. The transfer student." Snape scowled. "Tell me, Mr. Jackson, do you believe that simply because you come from America you do not deserve to be held to the same rules and standards that the students here are expected to follow?"

Percy tugged at his robe sleeves. "Um, no, sir," he said, slightly bemused. "Why —"

"Then you will not interrupt me while I am speaking, and especially with foolish comments flaunting your knowledge like Ms. Granger here."

Hermione flushed again, and Harry felt a surge of rage towards Snape. It was unfair of him to always pick on his friend like that, only for being smart. Percy only shrugged.

"Okay."

"You will address me as 'sir' or 'Professor' while a student in my classroom."

"Okay, sir."

Snape's gaze lingered on Percy a moment longer, as if trying to detect some form of sarcasm or disrespect. But he only narrowed his black eyes and continued speaking, slightly louder.

"Your defences, therefore, must be equally flexible and potent. This is what I will be teaching you in this class, or shall attempt to do so, for there are always those who do not pay attention…" Here he observed all the students. Finding all of them listening to him intently, he nodded. Suddenly his attention snapped to Percy again, who was spinning a ball pen in between his fingers. "Jackson."

Percy looked up. "Yes, sir?"

"Your fullest attention, please."

"Yes, sir."

But he continued twirling the pen, which Harry found foreign; they used exclusively quills and ink at Hogwarts, and he had not used muggle technology in a very long time. They must have done it differently at the American school.

Snape's jaw clenched. It was clear his impatience was rising quickly. He swooped down the row of desks to where Harry and his friends were seated, holding out his hand. "Give me the pen, Jackson."

Percy jerked back. "Whoa, what? But —"

"The pen, please."

"I have ADHD, sir. It's not my fault I fidget. Sir. Professor." He winced.

Snape did not relent. Instead, he simply plucked the pen out of Percy's hand. "Do not talk back to your professor. Detention, Saturday morning, my office. Now," he addressed the entire class here, "I expect your full, undivided attention for the rest of the lesson. Not doing so will result in detention with Mr. Jackson here. Now, if I may continue."

Snape glared at the class. "Good. As I was saying," he moved over to the wall of gruesome images, "these pictures demonstrate but a small taste of what the Dark Arts can do. The Cruciatus curse —" he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony — "The Dementor's Kiss —" a wizard slumped against a wall limply, eyes dead and vacant — "An Inferius attack." A bloody heap upon the ground.

The last one provoked scattered murmurings about the room. "Have they really been seen, then?" Parvati Patil piped up. "Is it true? That the Dark Lord is using the Inferius?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past, which means you would be well-advised to assume that he will be using them again." Clearly finished with the subject, Snape moved once more back to his desk, black robes billowing behind him. "Now… I assume all of you are complete novices at nonverbal spells. Tell me, what is the use of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's well-practised hand shot up eagerly. With a sigh, Snape looked around at the entire classroom to make sure he had no choice. There were no other hands in the air, but still he ignored Hermione.

"Mr. Jackson."

"Yes, sir."

Snape sighed again. "The use of a nonverbal spell."

Percy's eyes vaguely portrayed panic. "Um, when you use a spell without speaking. I guess… it's sort of like sword fighting?"

With Snape's expression, Harry might have thought he was teaching primary schoolers, not a classroom of sixteen-year-olds. "And pray tell, how is it like… sword fighting?" he asked dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Percy was oblivious. "Well, um, it's like… a typical move or an unpredicted move. Striking second or striking first. If your opponent doesn't know what you're about to do, even only for a moment before you do it, it gives you a slight advantage."

"Hm." Snape was clearly disappointed that his answer had made sense. "An unorthodox, borderline ridiculous analogy… however, a reasonably accurate one nonetheless. Yes, the lack of an incantation shouted before the spell gives one a split-second advantage over one's opponent. However, use of nonverbal spells requires great concentration, skill, and mastery that some…" he examined the Gryffindors as a whole spitefully, "...lack."

Harry knew he must be thinking about their disastrous Occlumency lessons the previous year, and anger burned inside him once more. It was far from his fault that Snape was an unprofessional, biased git… he scowled at his desk.

Snape continued. "You will now divide into pairs to practise nonverbal spells. One partner will cast a jinx silently, while the other will deflect it equally silently. Carry on."

Unbeknownst to Snape, Harry had taught the DA last year how to perform a Shield Charm, and at least half the class had participated. He had not, however, showed them a silent one since Harry himself did not know how. There was a good amount of cheating around the room, people simply whispering the spell in hopes that the professor wouldn't hear. Still, Hermione was able to nonverbally repel Ron's muttered Knockback jinx ten minutes into the lesson, a feat that any reasonable professor would have immediately rewarded with twenty points to Gryffindor. Snape simply ignored it. He swept around the room to observe like an overgrown bat as always, taking special pleasure in watching Harry and Percy's attempts at the feat.

Harry, who was supposed to be sending the jinx, pressed his lips together in an attempt to save himself from the temptation to speak. Finally he merely murmured langlock under his breath, hoping desperately that Snape would not hear. To his surprise, the jinx did not hit Percy; he must have successfully deflected it silently, which was shocking. Harry had half-expected him to be terrible at magic, given his blatant ignorance of the magical culture.

Percy had said his school was exclusive, though, so perhaps he really was an advanced wizard. If so, he could make a valuable ally against Voldemort. And if he could somehow bring even more students from his school to help fight, assuming they were all as proficient as him —

Snape, however, was unimpressed. He turned on Harry triumphantly. "Did you hear me when I said we were supposed to be practising nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly. He had been caught.

"Yes, sir." Snape corrected him.

"There's no need to call me sir, Professor." The words came out before he realised what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. But from behind Snape, a few like Ron, Dean, and Seamus, snickered.

Snape was scowling. "Ten points from Gryffindor, and detention with Jackson on Saturday at eight. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter, not even the so-called 'Chosen One.'"

"Nice comeback, Harry," said Percy as they made their way safely to break a short while later.

Ron was chortling. "That was brilliant, are you joking?"

"You really shouldn't have done that," said Hermione, frowning. "Why did you?"

Harry flushed. "He was targeting me as usual, in case you didn't notice!" he said heatedly. "There were plenty of other students speaking. A whole lot of the Slytherins, as well! I know Goyle was, and Crabbe, and Nott… what's Dumbledore thinking, anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear how he talked about it, almost like he was enamoured with it, saying all that stuff about 'invincible' and 'eternal' and whatnot?"

"I don't know, Harry —" began Hermione, but just then a voice interrupted them.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around. It was Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was hurrying towards them with a scroll of parchment in one hand.

"For you," he panted. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're team trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking that Sloper would have to be very lucky to be let back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right, I was hoping it'd be this weekend. Well, let me know, alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Was he a Quidditch player?" asked Percy after Sloper took off.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he was one of the Beaters last year. Say, Percy, why don't you try Quidditch? I've got a feeling you'd be really good…"

Percy winced. "A sport on flying broomsticks? No, thanks. Believe me, I've had… bad history with flying."

"What's the scroll?" interrupted Ron impatiently. "Honestly, you could talk about Quidditch later. This might be important!"

Harry unrolled it obligingly, and started when he recognised the elegant, slanting script.

Dear Harry,

I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" Percy repeated, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

"It's the password to his office," Harry said. "If only it was eight in the morning… I'd get to skip detention, Snape wouldn't have been pleased."

Percy nodded. "So you're taking private lessons from the headmaster?" he asked, grinning.

"Yeah, he asked me over summer. What d'you reckon it'll be for?"

"I'll bet he's planning on teaching you a bunch of jinxes and hexes that are so spectacular the Death Eaters won't know them," suggested Ron enthusiastically.

Hermione frowned. "That's illegal, Ron," she chided. "Dumbledore wouldn't teach him Dark Arts. I reckon he'll just up your defences, teach you counters and the much more advanced Defensive magic."

"So why is he teaching you this, again?" Percy cut in. "I mean, why not everyone else as well?"

Harry looked at him. "For the war against Voldemort, of course. He hasn't got time to teach every student… Dumbledore's one of the most powerful wizards in history, not to mention he runs a school."

Percy shrugged. "Yeah, but… why you? Why not, say, Hermione?"

"Because…" Harry felt frustration build up inside him. It was getting tiring having to explain everything, even more so when he realised he did not quite know the answer. "Because I'm the one who beat Voldemort first, and it's my responsibility to defeat him again."

"How did you defeat… Voldemort, right? ...when you were a baby?" Percy pressed. There was something in his eyes that Harry could not quite read; something like confusion, and possibly scepticism.

"Oh, come off it," said Ron, looking annoyed, and Harry shot him a grateful look. "Harry's just special, that's all."

Percy shrugged again, and did not press the matter further.

They spent the rest of the break speculating about Harry's lessons, until Hermione had to leave for Arithmancy. Then the three boys headed back to the common room to start on Snape's homework, a ten-inch essay on the technical differences between nonverbal and verbal spell-casting. This turned out to be complex and terribly difficult, and by the time Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period Harry had only written four sentences in as big a font as possible with generous spacing. Ron was faring even worse, having only gotten two, and Percy had not gotten anything at all.

"Dyslexia," he complained, while tapping a biro against the table rapidly. "I always failed English."

Hermione frowned. "Didn't Snape take your pen during Defence?"

Percy stopped, face flushing. "Um… I had another one?"

It was obviously a lie, but Ron only grinned. "You stole it back? Way to go, mate… Snape'll be clueless when he sees it's missing."

"Yeah," said Percy uncertainly. "Yeah, he will be."

Despite shaking her head at what she considered complete disrespect towards teachers (even if it was Snape, although she sounded uncertain), Hermione helped them with their essays and they finished by the time the bell rang for double Potions.

The four of them made their way down the well-known path to Potions, and when they arrived in the corridor of the classroom that had been for so long Snape's, Harry saw that only a dozen people had progressed to N.E.W.T. level. Four Slytherins had made it through — including Malfoy, much to Harry's disappointment — and four Ravenclaws. There was also one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, who Harry rather liked despite his pompous disposition.

The dungeon door opened, and Slughorn stepped through, the strained gold buttons on his velvet waistcoat preceding him.

"Come in, come in! ...No need to look intimidated, boy — ah, there you are, Harry, m'boy!" he greeted heartily. "And Ernie, Ernie Macmillan. Welcome!"

Aw, you guys! I know I sounded a bit offended in my last a/n due to the sad lack of reviews on something I've been working so much on... but I didn't expect such a great response from you all! I just wanted to let you guys know that passing 20 made me happy. Very, very happy. Thank you to all who reviewed :)

As a sort of thanks from me, I'm posting Ch. 7 a day early—a pretty lame thank you, but I did get a good amount of this fic done this week and I'm crediting you wonderful reviewers.

And big announcement! Drumroll please... the last new POV is being introduced next chapter! I'm excited. You guys probably aren't. But I'm excited.

Have an amazing weekend, y'all!

unfinished . nocturne