Chapter 9

Duncan closed his eyes, standing in front of the large mirror at the front of his classroom. There were no desks, only mats, a few weights in one corner, a punching bag in the other, and assorted weapons lining the one wall. Focusing his mind, Duncan began his kata.

Back in Seacouver he always began his classes with a kata. It focused him and gave his entering class a taste of what was to come. As he passed through the motions, his awareness focused to a single meditative point. He wasn't consciously aware of the students entering his class, but he knew they were there. They, the 6th year Gryffindors and Slytherins, stood, not really knowing what to do as there were no seats, and they had been told to leave their books in the dorm. Hr brought the kata to an end, faced the class, and bowed. The class, not knowing what else to do, applauded. He smiled and waved away the applause.

"Thank you. My name is Duncan MacLeod, and you can call me either Professor MacLeod, or Sensei MacLeod, or simply Sensei. Have a seat." He indicated the mats and the students sat, looking up at him.

"One of the downfall of many fighters is they are caught unprepared. They're always fighting one way, then suddenly an opponent tries something new, that the fighter hadn't faced before, and they're dead. For example, how many have seen the muggle film, "Indiana Jones?" About half of them raised their hands. "When the Arabian swings his sword and Indy just shoots him? It's like that. Or, instead of hexing an opponent, you punch them in the nose. If a wizard is attacking with magic, 90% of the time, he or she will not expect a physical attack.

"You will learn to fight barehanded, with classic weapons such as swords and axes, projectile weapons like bows and crossbows, and possibly muggle fire-arms." He looked around at the wide-eyed students. He spread his arms wide.

"Welcome to Physical Defence."

***

"We start with meditation," MacLeod said, walking up and down the four rows of seated students. "Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. In for seven, hold two, out seven, hold two. Clear your mind. Focus on your next task. In and out. Clear your minds." He watched as the students calmes, including the nervous Neville and jittery Seamus.

Not many had any experience in any sort of physical defense. Malfoy and Zambini had fencing lessons, Harry had good reflexes and speed, not to mention he could take punishment. Ron could wrestle and brawl, and packed a mean right hook, from fighting with his brother. Parvati had taken ballet, which would help her balance in karate. He decided to start with the basics, drills of the moves, working their way up to katas and eventually the weapons. In a few weeks they would begin to spar.

He estimated they would be able to start with weapons after the holiday break. Since this was their only dialy class, they would alternate weapons, drills days, and sparring days. MacLeod smiled before he called his students to attention. These kids would learn to defend themselves. They would gain the advantage in the war. They would survive.

***

After their dinner that night, Minerva invited Macleod to her chambers for a drink and to reminisce about their childhoods in Scottland. He accepted with a smile.

"I'd be honored."

Minerva led him up to the teacher's wing to her rooms down the hall from Mac's own. Mac looked around once inside. Her rooms were decked out in burgundy, gold, and crimson with rich mahogany wood. A rampant lion roared from the tapestry above her bed, which he could just see through the partially open door to her room. Above her fireplace was her draped tartan, her clan colors. MacLeod recognized the colors as coming from one of the neighboring allied tribes of his youth.

"You from 'round Glenfinnin?" Mac asked as Minerva handed him a glass of scotch. She nodded.

"Aye, about 20 minutes away as the broom flies. That where you from?"

"Aye. Born in Glenfinnin on the shores of Loch Shiel, me and my cousin Connor both."

"My father used to travel to Glenfinnin every other Sunday for some reason or another. Mostly to convince the locals that we were muggles and buy supplies. We lived on a sheep farm." She nodded to the Tartan. "That was Father's. Mum made it for him from the wool from our sheep." Mac smiled and they sat in the armchairs facing the fire.

"Mother made all of Father's clothes. All of mine and my brother's as well. When my sisters were older, they helped as well. I stayed with Father most of the time, learning to fight and to rule the clan. Father was the chieftain, as I was to be." Minerva looked at Mac quizzically.

"Glenfinnin hasn't had a chieftain in hundreds of years," Mac froze, his drink halfway to his mouth, "not since the MacLEod heir was."

"Killed in battle. When MacLeod died they lost to the English army, and the clan rule was abolished."

"You're heard the story too?"

"I lived that story." Minerva's mouth dropped open and she stared at MacLeod. "That MacLeod was me. I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in 1594 on the shores of Loch Shiel in Glenfinnin. I'm 409 years old and I am immortal."

THUD

"Minerva? Minnie? Oh.shoot."

***

The first thing Minerva realized was that her right side was warmer than her left. Very much so in fact. The next thing she realized was resting on something warm and firm.legs.her head was in someone's lap. The owner of said lap spoke.

"Minerva? Minerva?" She moved her head and moaned softly. "Minerva?"

"Brandy," she choked out, " top shelf, in the cabinet. "With a swish of his wand, (oak, 12 inches, Gryffin Feathers) he had the brandy and a tumbler in his hand. After a glass Minerva had much more color in her cheeks and was able to sit up. She still stared at MacLeod, her spectacles falling down her pinched nose.

"You're THE Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?" Mac nodded. "oh.I thought that name was just a coincidence. I.I need another drink." He smiled softly and handed her another tumbler of brandy.

***

"I hope you understand it's not the immortality that's surprising, what with Adam and now Severus and Cassandra. I'm also convinced that Albus will live forever, but that's just speculation. It's the fact that I'm meeting."

"A dead man? A myth?"

"THE Duncan MacLeod. I grew up hearing your story and that of your cousin, Connor." Mac's eyebrows raised.

"Oh really? I would think the family would never have spoken of it."

"They didn't. The servants do talk, though, you know."

"Oh." She shook her head in wonderment. "We have not only THE Duncan MacLeod teaching physical defense, we have the Delphi teaching divination, the oldest man in the world teaching history, and a werewolf teaching defense against the dark arts." MacLeod looked surprised.

"A werewolf? Lupin is." Minerva paled a bit.

"Oh, you didn't know? Yes, Lupin is a werewolf, but he's of no threat to anyone. Between his conscience, the cage, Sirius, and Severus' potion, he's harmless. The biggest threat is those two putting their heads together for a prank. They are two founding members of the Marauders, and they terrorized this school with pranks worse than the Weasley twins. If you want to know more, ask Sirius, I'm sure he'll love to brag." MacLeod smiled, raising his glass to drink.

"I'll make sure I will." He downed the glass. "This certainly has been a most interesting evening, but it is getting late. I will take my leave. Goodnight Minerva."

"Goodnight Duncan." Duncan left Minerva seated in front of the fire, staring into the flames, a glass of scotch forgotten in her hand,

***

MacLeod entered his room with a sigh and peeled out of his robes, cleaning them with a simple spell and draping them over the back of a chair. He paused, and then hung them up. He only had two robes, so far, one dress and one everyday. He cracked his neck as he walked to bed and changed into a pair of simple cotton pants.

He stood in the center of the room for one last meditative kata, to reflect on the day before bed. He thought about his classes that day, which students showed the most talent. He thought of Harry Potter and they boy, Malfoy. He thought of the Weasleys and the girl Hermione. He thought of his lunch with Remus and Sirius and how close friends they were becoming. He thought of Remus' gentleness and thoughtful nature. He thought of Sirius' smiles and jokes. He thought of Minerva and her reaction to him.

His mind drifted back further and he thought of Cassandra and Methos and the friendship they now shared. He thought of the island, where Methos and Severus had introduced him to magic and the wizarding world. Finally, he thought of himself. He really hadn't had a relationship since Tessa. Maybe it was time for him to start looking for love again. He was tired of being lonely.

TBC