After History of Magic came Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The new Defense teacher was...immediately different from any previous ones.
Quirrell's stuttering falsities, Lockhart's smug vanity, and last year's Ministry appointed professor of a former Auror, Emmett Seabert.
All of them were different, and this one was different from all of them, Harry observed as he settled into the classroom.
The petite young woman stood hardly any taller than any of her students, in her short robes, sleeveless and barely reaching her knees. Pale legs of smoothness and bare feet with nail polish - a light purple this time. Her fingernails were matching. Her long sun yellow hair was hanging loosely down her shoulders in curls.
"Hello, everyone," the woman spoke, once everyone had seated themselves. She walked back and forth before them, bouncing a little on her heels on each turn about. "I'm Professor Leila Thorn - but you all already knew that! For over thirty years now I've been a private tutor for mages whose parents wanted them homeschooled - all very unofficial - so this is my first experience with a real, full classroom. And at the most prestigious school in Magical Britain. But I'll do my best for all of you. Now, these last two years, with everything happening in the world, most parents have been asking me to teach their children combat magic: defensive and offensive. And even some of the parents themselves have wanted me to teach them. I was told it's not any different here: these last two years, your Defense classes have been about practical combat magic. You should be happy to know that won't change with me!"
"We're going to spend our time together focusing on how to identify, counter, and dispel deadly Curses and Hexes - and how to counterattack," the woman went on, her face set with confidence. "Professor Dumbledore has also given me permission to restart a school-wide activity that's familiar to those of you who were here the year before last: a dueling club. The faculty had long talks about this, and we're confident we can do it better than ever. Like the Triwizard Tournament, there's going to be risk and danger involved - mages of all Houses and years casting effective combat spells at one another - but there's risk and danger every day in this school, and outside it too. If it's a risk you think you can take, to learn how to protect yourselves and your families out there, then anyone can join it. We're going to have Healers from St. Mungo's to observe the duels between you all, and the Hogwarts hospital wing's own Madam Pomfrey on standby too."
Professor Thorn stopped in front of her desk, turning again to face them. She bobbed on her heels, back and forth, and drew out her wand. She held it across her waist, twisting it absently. "Are there any questions before we start the first lesson of the year, please?"
A few people raised their hands.
"Yes?" Professor Thorn pointed to a girl from Gryffindor, blinking her blue eyes at her.
"Hermione Granger, Professor," the girl spoke. "How is it you've been teaching for 'over thirty years' if you hardly look twenty-five?"
The Professor eyed the girl, swaying and twisting at the hips. She rolled her neck and looked at the ceiling. Then she looked right at Granger and gave a light smile of pale lips. She pulled a large, transparent flask from her robes pocket, which had a thick, deep red liquid in it that glistened under the torch lights. She flicked it open with a long, painted nail and drank from it. She wiped her lips, smearing it with red, and set the flask on her desk behind herself.
And then, at last, she answered.
"I could tell you I just have good genes, even for a mage - and even though that's not even too uncommon...it's not my story." Professor Thorn flourished her wand, tapping herself on the side of the head. The whole class stared as the professor began to change: her pale skin grew even paler, her veins darkened to jet black, and her eyes turned from light blue to a ruby red. Her spread lips of a smile revealed teeth that changed - fangs sprouted out between the others, prominent and pointy and long. Her long painted nails grew even longer, becoming deadly animalistic claws.
"I'm a vampire," Professor Thorn stated casually.
"What is Dumbledore thinking, letting a vampire teach here?" said a Gryffindor boy, scooting his whole desk back in fear.
Professor Thorn turned half-closed ruby eyes on the boy, frowning. "That's called prejudice, and it's not something people like. I won't have that in my classes here!"
"Does anyone have any other questions?" she continued, sweeping her gaze left and right.
Hannah raised her hand shakily.
"What's your question?" Professor Thorn asked.
"H-have you ever drank anyone's blood?" Hannah quavered.
"Only people who consented to it," the Professor responded firmly. "Any more questions - any that aren't about my race?" She tapped her wand to herself, and her features returned to normal - a normal human's, that was!
Harry didn't see why everyone else was so freaked out about her, personally. She seemed nice enough, and she was going be starting a real dueling club up again - that was going to be great. It was definitely exciting! Of course, the thought struck him that, if he did join it, and he had to duel other students, then that meant his mother would be here to watch him now. Not that she wouldn't have shown up to watch him anyway, in all likelihood, but still...
There was a little nervousness there, about a possibility of failing in front of her.
Should Harry even sign himself up for the club, or not?
Maybe he couldn't beat Death Eaters, but shouldn't he be able to take on other students here and win, with his mother's training?
Or would she tell him he wasn't that good, either?
"No more questions - okay," Professor Thorn was saying. "Why don't you all stand up and we can get to our first lesson, then? We'll need the space..."
They all got up, and with a wave of her wand their desks flew off to the sides of the room.
Professor Thorn began to pair them off, setting them the task of showing her they had a handle on Shield Charms, as a basic starting point.
It turned out that a few students still couldn't do it all too well; a few of them got hit with some light Jinxes from their peers, tickling charms and the like, that the Professor had to dispel and reverse for them.
The lesson continued with a focus on shielding - keeping it up, strong, how to manipulate it into different shapes, how to keep it persistent after casting, how to make it one-way or not to allow spells to flow out from behind it.
Harry was pleased with himself for not having any issues with the whole lesson: Professor Thorn complimented him on his shield strength, and his mastery over reshaping and placing it for various situations in combat.
Professor Thorn also gave praise to Evelyn for her "very powerful Curses", but advised her to "try using weaker hexes and jinxes for the classroom, or you might end up blowing a big hole in the wall."
All in all, it was a pretty satisfying class.
Harry was still really tired after it, though.
He did his best with getting Evelyn on to the next, however. It helped that she was, herself, in a lot more cooperative and outgoing mood now than before.
A real relief for Harry.
It was after dinner, during free time in the common room (wherein Harry, Evelyn, and Tamara were playing a game of Exploding Snap), when Professor Sprout came and told Harry and Evelyn that they were to go to the Headmaster's office.
They left Tamara, exiting the dorm and setting off through the corridors and staircases of Hogwarts.
It was a familiar route by now, honestly.
The gargoyles let them pass, and they went up the spiral staircase.
Harry knocked on the door, and Dumbledore's voice beckoned them in.
The sight that met him within the office was...incredibly tensed: Snape was standing like a statue, his features blank, facing the doorway; Harry's mother was back, as promised, standing equally as still, with an equally as...neutral expression on her face; and the Headmaster...well, Dumbledore looked as cheerful and unfazed as ever.
"Harry, Evelyn - come in, please!" Dumbledore greeted them jovially, waving to them from his desk. "Tonight's dinner was delightful, wasn't it? Did either of you happen to sample the new chocolate and strawberry cakes they made down in the kitchens?"
For all the tension in the room, Harry had to fight back a fit of laughter. "Erm - it was great, sir, yeah. I didn't eat any of it, but I think Evelyn took a slice?"
Evelyn nodded into her lap, though her lips tugged into a small smile. "It was good..."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said brightly. "A tad too sweet, in my opinion - but I found myself too tempted to refuse it, and I do not regret it now."
"Right," Harry said. "Erm, why exactly are we here, Professor?"
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore went on, growing considerably more serious. "I was just having another little chat with our older Potions teacher and our latest here - clearing a few more details up about the job, you know?"
"Um, sure," Harry said, prompting. The Headmaster really did love his small talk - and general beating around a bush.
"Now, Professor Snape here wishes to express to you both - though, to Evelyn in particular - his sincerest apologies regarding his most atrocious behavior this morning," Dumbledore continued, in a rather firm tone.
Harry and Evelyn looked to Snape, who looked down at them.
Snape looked rather like a moody teenager, honestly, with his hands shoved into his black robes pockets, and his shoulders a bit hunched.
Harry really saw what his mother meant about Snape not acting too much better than the actual children he was meant to teach...
It was almost comical. Though, Harry thought nobody in the room right now would have appreciated it if he expressed the humor he found in the situation - well, except maybe Dumbledore. Regardless, he focused on his mother, recalling her lessons she'd tried to instill in him - anger, self-control, restraint, think, and breathe - and he firmly pushed these feelings down into his mind's depths.
Snape gave a sigh, looking at Evelyn. "Ms. Milgrid, I apologize for my behavior this morning - the comment I made toward you was...entirely inappropriate, and unbefitting of my teaching position."
Holy hell, he actually did it. Harry stared at Snape, amazed. Though...he supposed if one had Albus Dumbledore, and Harry's mother breathing down one's neck about it, you really had no choice but to go along with things.
Snape looked to Harry, next, his face becoming more like stone than Harry thought possible. His eyes might've been dead. "Mr. Potter...I- apologize for the points I took from you, and the inappropriate comments I made toward you," he uttered tonelessly.
"Wonderful," Dumbledore remarked. He glanced at Nagini, who set her gaze on Harry.
"Harry," his mother spoke, simple and clear. "I think...that you should give an apology for the anger-driven insults that you gave Professor Snape."
"I'm not going to-" Harry started.
"Yes, you are," Nagini said firmly. "This isn't about him - it's about you, Harry. Your temper."
Harry fumed, struggling, looking away from her. Annoying case in point, his rational side whispered. "Yeah, fine. Okay - I'm sorry for the stuff I said, Professor. Can we go now?"
Snape made a noise. "That wasn't in any way genuine."
"Neither was yours," Nagini stated calmly. "Something I find much more disappointing than I do his."
"Of course - because he's a child, he'll be allowed to get away with anything," Snape remarked.
Dumbledore stood, drawing all eyes. "Are we going to have problems already with these arrangements of ours?"
"N-no...no problems," Snape muttered, looking away. "We are finished here, then, are we?"
"Oh yes, I think so," Dumbledore responded. "You may leave - both of you. Show Professor Siahaan a tour of the Potions classroom, would you? Do your best to give our new professor a crash course in proper classroom rules and methods before tomorrow morning. The time together should give you both, well, time to iron out any remaining issues before the morning comes."
Snape gave a nod and turned to leave.
Harry met his mother's gaze, and held it. Worry rose in him at the thought of her being alone with Snape for however long it would be tonight.
She must have seen that worry on his face, because she gave him a smile and a little fluttering wave of her fingers. As she strode past him, she pulled him into a tight hug, and said into his ear, "Don't worry: I'm more than capable of handling this man."
Harry felt fairly reassured, remembering how she had handled Snape just this morning, and remembering quite well how good of a duelist she was. How sharp and smart she was. All her reluctantly told war stories, her fighting off Voldemort multiple times now.
And yet for all that...
Harry still felt a squirming, sickening anxiety at what kind of nasty, terrible comments Snape might decide to direct at her while alone with her. What if Snape started in on her like he did Harry, like he had Evelyn? What if he lost it and went further than that? Tried to get back at her for cursing him, robbing him of his ability to speak and freezing him to the spot? He was petty enough to try it, Harry thought fearfully.
Nagini stroked his hair, gave him a kiss, looked him right in the eye as she bent forward. "You get back to your dorms. I'll be fine - I'll see you tomorrow morning, in Potions. I really do need to learn the curriculum and such, you know..." she finished lightly, flashing a grin.
Harry tried to smile back, nodding. "Okay. See you tomorrow, mum."
"You will," she replied, straightening and turning on a heel, graceful and expert as ever.
When you were dealing with an immature, volatile, cruel and vindictive man-child, you had to expect anything.
Nagini walked swiftly beside Snape as they entered the dungeons. The hand on the hidden side of her body had fingers splayed, her mind focused on an instant casting of a Freezing Spell.
Decades ago, during another war against another Dark Lord, Nagini Siahaan had once had the job of surreptitiously gaining information on others. Sneaking, spying, as only a serpent could. In the tall grass, the woods, the cluttered furnitures of a room - the ducts and vents of a building...
But a truth she had never told Harry, was that she had not just been a spy of a serpent: she had also been an assassin. With her magical, incredibly potent and persistent venom, she had sometimes been tasked to sneak into a place, and giving certain people a good hard bite.
She thought it was fifty-fifty on whether or not Harry already had realized this about her - he'd seen her bite people like Quirrell before, and in many of her war stories she had told him over the past two years together, she might have alluded to using her serpent's form in battle. But could he know that she might have also used it outside of straight up battles...and sometimes to start those battles off?
Could he know that she had, several times too many, slithered herself through the homes and safehouses of her enemies, crawled right up onto them while they slept in their beds, defenseless and helpless...and plunged her venomous fangs into their necks? Their throats? Their faces? Struck over and over again, and left them for dead?
It was the greatest guilt and shame she still carried with her today. What she had done - agreed to do, for the sake of that war. A terrible, global war that had to end and never seemed as if it would. So many friends, lost or turned, killed or left broken...
And herself, of course, who had broken and fled only a few short years before what turned out to be the true ending of the war. Because she couldn't handle being trapped as a serpent forever, being surrounded by people with wands and hands who could pick up forks and open doors...but also because she couldn't live with all she'd done, being around all those people who knew what she had done.
Seeing as the world of today only knew her as some honorable, long lost war hero...it seemed that everyone who had been close to her had taken her deeds to their graves. Or, were in the process of, if they were still alive. Dumbledore was one such person.
It was fair, she thought: all of the others would want her to do the same for them - all of them...to do for each other.
Something she had once been...and knew she could be again - would be, if the situation ever arose again. If the circumstances ever...
Although she didn't plan on being an assassin again any time soon, she wouldn't rule it out.
She glanced at Snape without moving her eyes, purely peripheral.
She knew Harry had been worried for her. And if even her bigheaded, temper-troubled teenage son (said with much love!) could see such frightening issues in Severus Snape...
Yes, Nagini intended to iron out all remaining issues with this man, as Albus had suggested.
They arrived at a door, which Snape slammed open, stalking into the potions classroom.
Nagini lingered in the doorway, flexing her fingers before crossing the threshold.
The door creaked shut behind her, an invisible, enchanted barrier forming across it.
Torches sprang to life.
"Well, here we are," Snape spat. "Let's get this over with."
Nagini strode forward, every step measured, every ripple of muscle across her body...
"Yes, let's."
She tapped her finger to her thigh, and magic bloomed...