On Saturday, Harry and his roommates had a late breakfast followed by heading to the courtyard for a game of wizarding skittles. The place was packed with students, mostly Slytherins, who were either playing their games or hanging about.

"All right," said Draco, holding out a small sack. "Five Sickles a man. Winner takes all."

So they dumped their Sickles into the sack and got started on a game of 'killer' wizarding skittles. The rules were similar to the Muggle version of the game, with each player getting three 'lives' as they went one after the other on the throw.

"Thirty Sickles is a lot of sweets," said Vincent, rolling his shoulders. "I'm not going easy here."

"Me neither," said Gregory.

"Oh please." Blaise lifted the wooden, disc-shaped 'cheese' (which was about ten inches in diameter) that was meant to be thrown at the skittles pin. "One pin or nine, you should know who's the best by now."

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and said, "How we doing this? Alphabetical or descending age?"

Most of the group voted for the latter, so Draco listed the names in order of Theodore, Blaise, Vincent, Draco, Harry, and Gregory. Then he set up a single skittles-pin in the corner of the courtyard, and backed off approximately twenty-five feet towards the throwing line.

"Let's see what you got," Draco told Theodore, who stepped up and swiped the cheese from Blaise. Theodore took the first throw and just about managed to hit the pin, after which the cheese flew back to the throwing line and the skittles pin returned to where Draco had placed it.

I love magic, Harry thought.

Next up was Blaise. He swung the cheese and hit the pin right in its centre, then did a fist pump in the air. "Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Who's next?"

Vincent stepped up and took a heavy-handed throw, which missed the pin by over a foot.

"Let me show you how it's done," said Draco. He caught the cheese as it came flying back, then made a flamboyant throw which hit the pin right on its upper half. "Yeah!"

"Focus," said Theodore, though it was too late as Draco (who was too busy celebrating with his back to the pin) got smacked in the back of his head by the returning cheese. Everyone around them laughed.

"That's what you get for showing off," said Theodore.

Next up was Harry. But right at the point of taking his throw, he spotted Merula near the corner of his eye and ended up missing the skittles pin by over a foot. Wow, that sucked.

"And now?" Draco asked, looking bemused (if not amused). "What happened to all those Chaser skills?"

Harry said nothing.

Gregory missed as well, leaving the standings at Theodore, Blaise, and Draco on three lives each; and Vincent, Harry, and Gregory on two lives each by the end of the first round. The match continued with Harry, Draco, and Blaise being the only ones to hit the target during the second round; and Harry, Theodore, Vincent, and Gregory hitting it thereafter.

"Round four," said Blaise, while standing against the wall to the left of Harry. "Let's go!"

Blaise and Vincent were the only ones to hit the skittles pin during the fourth round, which meant that everyone but Blaise was now on one life each. Then, in the fifth round, Theodore and Vincent each missed the target, knocking them out of the game.

"Tough luck," said Draco, with a smug little grin on his face. "Guess those Sickles will be mine soon."

Too bad for him, Draco ended up missing the target and was knocked out of the game in the sixth round (Theodore laughed), while Blaise also missed.

"Guys, come on," said Blaise, as he, Harry, and Gregory went into the seventh round on one life each. "I could really use that money."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right."

The pressure was on. But in the end only Harry managed to hit the target, and therefore walked away with thirty Sickles in his pocket.

"That was a fluke," said Blaise, as they left the courtyard. "Next time, you won't be so lucky."

Draco scoffed. "Stop acting like a Weasley."

They spent the rest of their morning wandering about the castle, followed by playing a few rounds of Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and broom racing in the afternoon.

On Sunday morning, Harry finished his three-foot-long essay and decided to follow up on Nymphadora Tonks's advice from last week. He supposed that if Voldemort had reached the stage of using a wand on his own, then there was a good chance that Voldemort would be recruiting Dark creatures in the near future, especially the Dementors.

He'd send them after me, probably.

So with that in mind, Harry made haste to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office after lunch, and saw that Merula had replaced Mrs Tonks's earthen décor with that of the Slytherin common room. There was an expensive mahogany desk in the middle of the room, an elaborately carved mantelpiece to the left, and a collection of high-backed chairs, oak wooden tables, and black leather couches on the right.

Wow, talk about house pride.

"So, how can I help?" Merula asked. She stood up from behind her desk and flicked her wand, causing the silver wireless in the corner to stop its song about dancing, jiving, and having the time of your life. "Or are you just here to hand in your essay? I saw you scribbling away in the library earlier."

Harry wasn't sure how much he could trust Merula, especially when it came to the knowledge of his Voldemort dream. So he kept things vague and explained that he wished to master the Patronus Charm after having researched the Dementors. Merula accepted his reason without question.

"Yeah, I can understand that," she said, with a thoughtful nod. "Now tell me what you know about the Patronus Charm."

And that was exactly what Harry did.

"Huh, not bad," said Merula, impressed by Harry's studies. "Then again, I'd do the same if Voldemort was coming after me." She smiled at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "Yeah, Dumbledore told me a few things. I'm surprised that someone like you would actually play Quidditch and stuff."

As a matter of fact, Harry had also thought along those lines quite a number of times before. But seeing as James Potter had been one of the best players Hogwarts had ever seen, Harry just couldn't give up Quidditch. He had to carry on his father's legacy, no matter what.

"Anyway ..." Merula took aim in the middle of the office and focused hard on her spell. "Expecto Patronum!"

A bright silvery shadow shot out the tip of Merula's wand and hovered in the air like a semi-transparent cloud. She was able to keep it going for quite some time, and with only minor lapses in its strength.

"That's pretty much all I can do," Merula said, releasing her spell. "An indistinct Patronus."

"But why?" Harry asked. "I thought you knew your stuff."

Merula gave a slight chuckle and shook her head. "Let's see you do it, then, smart mouth. Concentrate hard on a single happy memory, and say the incantation."

Here goes. Harry drew his wand from his pocket and shut his eyes. He thought long and hard about the day he'd finally convinced Dumbledore to set him free from the Dursleys ... with some help from Mrs Tonks, of course.

"Expecto Patronum!"

For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, hovering in the air much like Merula's Patronus had done. It drained Harry of his energy the longer he kept it going, until he released the spell.

"Hmph!" Merula looked slightly haughty after Harry's performance. "I bet you're thinking you're better than me, huh? Well, guess what? I'm not giving you house points for this."

Harry couldn't believe how childish his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was acting.

"Anyway," – Merula changed the topic – "now that you know what it feels like to conjure an indistinct Patronus, you should set your sights on something greater. The true Patronus is an even more advanced piece of magic."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He'd paged through some of the rarest books in the non-restricted section of the library, and had come across bits of information regarding the true (or 'corporeal', as it was sometimes called) Patronus. It was no easy feat.

"Let's try it again, shall we?" Merula said. She moved to stand at her desk while Harry took aim and conjured his Patronus again. "Remember that it's a lot harder in the presence of a Dementor, so you'd best work on getting used to it in a safe space."

Unfortunately, Harry could do nothing more than cast an exceptionally bright – and taxing – indistinct Patronus. He tried over and over again until Merula decided to call it quits for the day.

"You can read up on it, if you want," she said, taking a seat at her desk. "But this isn't something you can just pull from the books."

Harry wasn't sure whether it was worth asking Merula for subsequent lessons, especially considering that she, herself, was unable to cast a true Patronus. So he just stood there twiddling his fingers until she spoke.

"We can do this again, if you'd like. Although I'm guessing you probably don't think it's worth it, right?"

"Why would I think that?" Harry asked, surprised at how Merula was able to read him at times. Was she a Legilimens, perhaps?

"Just a thought, considering that I can't cast my own proper Patronus."

For a moment, Harry considered rejecting any subsequent lessons from Merula. But given that she was a decent teacher overall and that Harry enjoyed her company, he thanked her for the lesson and asked for a follow-up. Merula was happy to oblige.

"Oh, and here's my essay," Harry said, handing over his roll of parchment. Merula took it and flicked her wand in the direction of her silver wireless, causing it to switch on and continue its song about a dancing queen.

Harry was pretty sure that was an old Muggle-song.

Classes resumed on Monday, and while Harry battled to stay focused during his first History of Magic lesson for the year, there was no falling asleep in Hagrid's class thereafter. Everyone could tell that these 'Blast-Ended Skrewts', or whatever they were, would be a real handful in the near future.

"Can't believe I'm still taking this class," Draco said on the way up to the castle. "That oaf's lost even more marbles since we last had him."

Pansy and the others agreed. And while Harry was quick to step in and defend Hagrid, Draco was quick to point out the dangers of their new curriculum.

"I bet you that stuff's not even legal," he said, frowning. "But you know what? I don't care. Let's leave your pal to face the law himself."

And they dropped the subject of Hagrid and his Skrewts ... until Draco saw some of the Gryffindors pass them in the Entrance Hall.

"Hey, Weasley!" Draco said, as the group of Ronald Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom walked past. "I know what you're thinking. I bet you'd love to take some of those Skrewts home to feed your family, eh?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Weasley. "Come on, guys ..."

But Draco wasn't leaving it there, and he turned his attention to Longbottom instead. "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Longbottom? So tell me, is Weasley's mother still as porky as ever? Does she still waddle around like a duck?"

Longbottom had no idea what to say.

"Is anyone missing a wand?" Finnigan asked the crowd. "'Cause Malfoy's mam walks like she got something stuck up her arse."

Most of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws gathered around laughed. Draco's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Finnigan. She's worth a million times more than your hideous, backwater, Muggle-loving –"

BANG.

Several people screamed as Weasley and Finnigan fired two Instant-Scalping Hexes at Draco. Fortunately, Harry was even quicker as he deflected them out the front doors.

I bet that looked so cool.

"Didn't think you'd stand up for him, Potter," said Weasley, "considering his dad sent up that Dark Mark at the World Cup."

"Shut up," said Pansy, clenching her fists. "Nobody believes your lies." (Harry wasn't so sure about that.)

Under normal circumstances, Harry might have let those spells hit Draco. Too bad for Weasley and Finnigan, Harry couldn't help flaunting his skills to a familiar face on the left, who was descending the marble staircase. Hope she saw that.

"Boys," said Merula, shifting her violet eyes from Harry and Draco to Weasley and Finnigan, and back. "What's going on here?"

Draco pointed at Weasley and Finnigan and said, "They attacked me, Professor!"

"And he started it!" said Lavender Brown, while Parvati Patil and the boys nodded. "Malfoy insulted Ron's family, especially his mother!"

"Be that as it may," said Merula, now standing at the base of the staircase, "fighting is against the rules. Twenty points from Gryffindor," (Draco and the others grinned) "and ten points from Slytherin, Malfoy."

"What?"

Merula ignored Draco as she looked at Weasley and Finnigan. "Come with me, you two. Let's go have a chat with Professor McGonagall in her office."

Groaning (and shooting nasty looks at Draco), Weasley and Finnigan followed Merula up the staircase.

"Serves 'em right," said Draco, snorting. "Look at that dip in the Gryffindor hourglass. Excellent!"

Harry, however, couldn't care less about petty arguments and silly retaliation. He was more concerned over the form of his Patronus, which he pondered upon throughout lunch. Then it was off to double Transfiguration, where Professor McGonagall gave Draco a stern talking-to in front of the class.

"I would strongly suggest that you pull up your socks and focus on your academics, Mr Malfoy. Or need I remind you that for someone who thinks so highly of himself, you have failed to make the top ten last year."

Draco kept a straight face, though Harry could tell that he took offence at those words.

"In any case ..." Professor McGonagall walked away from her desk, and towards her blackboard on the left. "There are more important things at hand than petty squabbles. Take, for instance, the Ordinary Wizarding Levels. How many of you can honestly say that you're well on track according to your performance last year?"

Several of the Slytherins raised their hands, including Harry. Professor McGonagall gave a slight snort of laughter.

"Very well. Then I suppose you ought to have no issues keeping up ..."

Although Professor McGonagall hit the ground running with her new curriculum, Harry was fairly content with his performance today. In fact, he had a strong suspicion that Professor McGonagall, herself, was impressed, though she likely withheld her praise on purpose.

The next day brought double Divination in the morning (while Theodore and Tracey left for Arithmancy instead). Professor Trelawney went on and on about planetary movements, and caught Harry completely off guard when she said that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at his birth.

"Your dark hair ... your mean stature ... tragic losses so young in life ..." She took a deep breath in and out in a sad manner. "Am I correct in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?"

Mid-winter? What? "No, Professor. I was born at the end of July."

Pansy and the others tried hard not to laugh, and they carried on with their astrology lesson until the bell rang for lunch.

"What a waste of time," Tracey told them at the Slytherin table, when Pansy spoke of their Divination lesson. "I still say you should all change – especially you, Harry."

"No way," said Draco, explaining yet again that Divination made for easy marks.

Lunch was followed by Potions, in which Professor Snape was as stern as ever, especially when Harry ended up daydreaming over his Patronus in class.

"Potter!" said Snape, banging his fist on the table as he walked past Harry and Susan. "Stop thinking about Quaffles and get back to work!"

"Sorry, Professor."

But Harry couldn't stop thinking about what he'd read in the library before breakfast. If one's Patronus could be influenced by their idea of a protector, then Harry reckoned the answer could be closer than he thought. After all, his departure from the Dursleys meant that he no longer had the Bond of Blood charm, and was therefore left with his mother's sacrifice alone protecting him from Voldemort (well, there was Dumbledore and all, but that wasn't personal enough for a Patronus).

Harry was brought out of his thoughts as Snape swept before him like an overgrown bat. And without daring to slip into another train of thought, he carried on with his note-taking until the bell rang.