Chapter Three

"How are things going, Mr. Potter?"

Minerva McGonagall's voice startled Harry. He hadn't expected anyone to find him in his perch on one of Hogwart's many perches, but if he had, he would have expected a student.

"As well as may be expected, I guess." His hair was wild, unkempt. He hadn't eaten well in days - not since Hermione left, at least.

"I hear that your first few days have been mostly uneventful." That was likely a tactful way of saying, boring. Harry had written out what he wanted to cover ahead of time, and had spent most of the class reading from his scrolls, not meeting people's eyes.

"You could say that."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall had some of the fire back in her voice, a note of exasperation that he had missed. "Will you please look at me when I speak to you."

He turned his face towards her, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. "When was the last time you ate a good meal, Mr. Potter?"

He felt like he was eleven years old again. "I'm not certain, Professor. I haven't been very hungry."

"Mr. Potter...Harry...we need to talk."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I know I've let you down."

"Harry, I am disappointed." He started to hang his head again. "Not in you, though. I'm disappointed in myself, for not having reached out to you before. I suppose I thought that you had other people to turn to...others that would have been there for you. I was so sure that Mrs. Weasley would have..."

"She would have," Harry said. "She tried to write me, after...after the end of year six. I couldn't write her back. She's not the only one - I've had loads of letters. None of them really helped though. I don't think I was ready to talk to anyone - and now I don't know what to say."

"Harry, no matter how you feel, you aren't alone. There are people all around you who care for you, who want to be there for you. I know there's not much we can do, but you need to give us a chance to listen."

Harry felt a stir of anger, but he wasn't sure why. He fought it down, though. He was doing that a lot lately - bottling up the anger inside. Instead, he just shook his head. "I can't, Professor. There's no one...I mean, everyone lost someone, and the only people who'd really understand about Ron, it just hurts too much to talk to."

"I understand that you saw Miss Granger this summer. How is she holding up?"

"She's doing well...or at least, she's always been better at putting a brave face on things than I have. She couldn't...couldn't stick around, though."

McGonagall sat down, and put her arm on his shoulder. "Harry, are you sure you're able to keep teaching? I think you have a lot that you could add to Hogwarts' students, but maybe it's too early to expect that from you."

Somehow, her understanding just fed the anger inside him - he couldn't strike out at her, though. If she was patronizing him, he deserved it - what kind of person could defeat the Dark Lord, and not do his all for his own students? "I'm sorry, Professor, that I haven't been at my best. I'll try to do better. If you'll excuse me." He grabbed his broomstick and leaped off the roof, leaving McGonagall alone with her thoughts.


Ginny Weasley could hardly believe the change in Harry. His first few classes had been as boring as Binns - reading straight from the book, asking for scrolls instead of practical demonstrations. There was a gleam in his eye now, though, and Ginny shivered with anticipation as he began the class. He held no book, no notes - just a wand.

"Today, class, I thought I'd start with something different."

"Finally," a Slytherin in the corner muttered, echoing the sentiments of the class. Ginny almost clapped - Harry looked alive again. A tear escaped her eyes - she'd been afraid that she'd lost him altogether. She'd never been part of the Trio, always on the outside, but they'd always been there, with Hermione and Harry as important to her as her brother. She'd mourned Ron, as much as she could, but she had been afraid that she would have to start mourning Harry, as well.

"Five points from Slytherin," Harry said, "and thank you for volunteering. Mr. Godfried. Up front, please."

There was a general mutter from the class, but he ignored it, as the Slytherin approached the front.

"Class, I'm sure that for many of you," and here, his eyes swept the Gryffindors, ignoring the Slytherins altogether, "the Dueling Charms covered in this section of the book are just a review. I think we need to supplement this with a practical review. I'd like each of you to take turns casting each of the eight charms in this section. And, so I can see all of you, we'll just have you cast them all on Mr. Godfried, instead of pairing off, as per normal. I'm sure, since he was so bored with the previous class, he'll be more than happy to help demonstrate. "

"Hardly, Professor!" Iago Godfried sputtered out. "There are some painful spells in there - you can't expect me..."

"Ten points from Slytherin. Another word, and it's fifty and a week's detention."

Iago stopped talking, and stood stoically. His face was a study of arrogance. Ginny was a little stunned. Taking stun and pain curses from each student in the class would be worse than being Snape's designated taste-tester.

Harry looked pleased with himself, as each of the students came to the front and cast their spells. Some he had repeat their spells. Most of the Gryffindors, who had learned these spells from their fellows in past years, got them right the first time - but that didn't stop some of them from casting a spell more than once. When it came time for Ginny to cast, though, she couldn't do it. Iago had already taken twelve back spasms and fifteen migraine curses, among others. He was barely standing, his eyes half-closed, hands just hanging at his sides. Harry had forbidden him to defend himself, so he wasn't even holding his wand.

She looked at Harry, and he looked impatient. "Well, Ginny? I know you can do these, but I'd like to have you demonstrate the proper form."

"Professor...I don't think I can do this."

"Are you alright, Ginny?"

"I just can't...can't hurt him."

"Miss Weasley," Harry looked angry - something that he'd been hiding below the surface was beginning to peak out. "You are holding up the class. Will you please cast your spells."

She mouthed at Iago, I'm sorry, and cast each of the spells in turn. She tried not to put too much behind them, but she still felt her stomach twist with each spell. When she was done, she slumped at her desk. Why was Harry doing this?

The Slytherins did almost as well as the Gryffindors. None of them complained, and a few even seemed to enjoy it.

When they were all done, Harry smiled. He still hadn't let Iago sit down. "Well, that's all we will do today. I think you all have a good grounding in the practical aspects, but we will be continuing with practical sessions once per week. We will also be performing a study on Dark Wizards. To begin with, I would like each of you to provide me with a report on how to identify a Dark Wizard, two rolls, by next Friday. Class is dismissed."

With his words, Iago collapsed, and most of the students walked around him, carefully ignoring him. Ginny, though, helped him up, and walked with him to Madame Pomfrey. She didn't see Harry glaring at her back, but didn't much care.


"There is no way that you can defend Potter this time, Professor McGonagall!" Snape spat out at her. He had entered the staff room livid at the behavior of the school's Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher.

"I have no intention of doing so, Severus," she said, acerbically. "I can't imagine what possessed Professor Potter, but Miss Weasley was in tears over the incident."

He just sneered back at her. "Oh, that's too bad. I'm so sorry that Miss Weasley was so broken up at this. Tell me, will she be missing classes for the next week, as Iago Godfried will be doing?"

"No, she will not," McGonagall shot back, "but I'm sure that he won't be alone in the hospital wing. I understand that Miss Claire and Mister Milton had accidents in Potions today, and will be there with him."

"That's entirely different. It was their own carelessness that caused them to lose their ears, and I sent them to Madame Pomfrey with very little delay. Potter-"

The door slammed open, and Harry strode in. His face was still pinched from his near starvation diet, but he looked more alive than McGonagall had seen him before. He strode in, and stared at Professor Snape. "Yes, Snape? Did you have something to say to me?"

Professor Snape scowled at the young man in front of him. "Mr. Potter, I hope that you can explain yourself."

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Snape?"

"I believe that Severus feels that your display this afternoon was a little excessive," McGonagall interjected.

"Really, Professor?" Harry looked full of false innocence. "I thought that such displays promoted character. At least, that's what I've heard in similar cases in the past." That had been Snape's defense the prior year, when a few Gryffindors had tasted all of the Slytherin poisons. Harry had spent a week in the Hospital Wing after that one, and Ron had never recovered his strength.

Snape was clearly ready to defend himself against the implied accusation, but the door slammed open again. Madam Pomfrey was there, white as a sheet. "Professors Snape and McGonagall, the Headmaster asked me to have you join him in his office."

"This isn't finished, Potter," Snape spat, on his way out.

"No, it's not," Harry answered to his back, before he, too, left the staff room.

McGonagall's comments hadn't helped him get over Ron, much less Hermione. He didn't feel at home again, and he certainly wasn't happy. He had a purpose now, though, and as long as he focused on his purpose, he could ignore the pain.

Tom Riddle had been a Slytherin, and he'd caused the mess that ruined Harry's life. Snape had weakened Ron and Harry last year - Draco almost killed Hermione in the Forest while they were recuperating. Nothing good had ever come out of Slytherin house, and it was unlikely that anything ever would, although it was very convenient for them to put all of the malcontents and evildoers in one place.

Very convenient indeed - because Harry wasn't going to rest until he'd made every single one of them pay.

"Professor Potter, could I speak with you?" Roland Weston's voice snapped Harry out of his reverie for a moment. The boy's face was still covered with boils from a misdirected curse in the afternoon's DADA class.

Harry had a brooding look on his face as he turned to look at the Gryffindor boy. "Yes? What is it?"

"Well, you see...I...I just needed to tell you..."

There was a shout from behind Roland, from one of the other first year Gryffindors. "Oy, Roland, come on, mate! You'll miss supper."

Roland looked torn.

Harry decided to encourage him to be with his friends - after all, there was nothing that the boy would have to say to his DADA teacher that wouldn't wait. "Go on, Roland - we can talk after the next class."

Roland nodded his thanks, and was off. Harry didn't think anything more about it, even when Roland seemed to avoid him at the next few class sessions.