Author's Notes: Uh, this is a bit weird. I apologize for any and all Out-Of-Characterness. Please forgive me.

If I ever manage to upload it, that is. (grumbles…)

Chapter 3 – DADA

Harry woke up with a headache and a severe sense of Déjà vu. It took him a moment to realize he was in the hospital wing, lying fully clothed in standard issue infirmary pajamas under the crisp white sheets of the cot furthest from the door, with a grey tabby cat curled up on the chair next to his bed.

It took him a further moment and no small amount of disconcertion, to realize that said tabby cat was in fact his Transfigurations Professor. Harry sat up quickly and put on his glasses, which had been conveniently placed on his bedside table.

The tabby cat got up lazily, stretched, and transformed into an especially grim-looking Professor McGonagall, perched primly in the straight-backed chair. "How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

Harry blinked somewhat dazedly. "Okay, I guess, Professor," he said uncertainly. "What happened?"

McGonagall scowled. "You have been poisoned," she said unceremoniously, "Fortunately Professor Snape was able to provide the antidote necessary to counter the effects of the poison, but it was a very close thing."

Harry stared. He felt a little hazy, from the poison, no doubt… He'd been poisoned. And Professor Snape had…? Ah, Snape. Right, Potions. Well, now was as good a time as any, Harry thought. "Professor," he said suddenly. "You made a mistake with my schedule."

If McGonagall was surprised with this change of subject, she didn't show it. Her frown did, however, become a little more pronounced. "Oh?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "I'm not taking Potions. Didn't you get my owl?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, but still didn't look particularly surprised. "You got an 'O' on your Potions O.W.L., did you not? I assumed you made a mistake on your course selection sheet. Surely you still want to be an Auror? I didn't spend a good two hours arguing with Dolores Umbridge for nothing, did I?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, no, but – "

"Potter, you have just been poisoned. Do you understand that? You could have died. Whoever was responsible for it will of course be expelled, if we ever find him or her, but even then that doesn't mean it won't happen again. You should have been able to recognize the taste and smell of Sibian Root, the main component of the potion administered in your food. You are going to take Potions."

"But with Snape teaching, I won't learn anything anyway!"

"I don't see how you figure that. You obviously learned enough over the past five years to earn an 'Outstanding' O.W.L., and unless there's a Potions Master in this school that I'm unaware of, you have Professor Snape to thank for it."

Harry stared at McGonagall's grim, determined expression. "I didn't do the summer homework," he said weakly, by way of a final protest.

"That's alright," McGonagall answered briefly, satisfied with his surrender. "You'll still have time to do it. Professor Snape was unable to conduct class this morning as he was busy preparing your antidote." Harry groaned, and McGonagall gave him a faint, thin-lipped smile. "I'm sure Miss Granger will be quite delighted to help you with it. Now if you're not suffering any adverse effects, which Professor Snape assured me you would not, I suggest you get going to your next lesson. You've only been asleep for a few hours, and I really need to return to my own classroom."

It was then that Harry looked around and realized that something, or rather someone, was missing. "Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked.

The grim look returned to McGonagall's face. "She was one of the people targeted over the summer," she said curtly. "She is currently recovering in the intensive care ward at St. Mungo's."

Harry followed the sound of agitated muttering to the hallway outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The sight that greeted him as he turned the corner was enough to make him consider turning right around and heading back to the Hospital wing, whether Madame Pomfrey was there to receive him or not: closest to the door of the classroom was a group of sixth-year Gryffindors, all quite familiar to Harry from last year's DA, at the center of which was Hermione, sobbing quite hysterically onto Ron's shoulder, who was meanwhile shooting very dark looks across the hall at the blond-haired center of a group of Slytherins that, Harry realized with a sinking heart, must be taking the class with them. Unfortunately for Harry, Malfoy caught sight of him before he could make his escape. "So you're not dead after all, huh, Potter? Shame. Diggory could have used some company."

Harry forced himself to ignore Malfoy and instead made his way straight for Hermione, who had looked up at the sound of Harry's name, and who now promptly threw herself into his arms instead. "McGonagall made us go to class. She said Snape made the antidote, but you could have died, Harry!" she choked out. Harry returned her hug awkwardly before passing her back to Ron, who didn't seem to be a bit concerned with her sobbing now that he knew Harry was going to be alright.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Really."

"It was Malfoy," said Ron by way of explanation. "We saw him watching you."

"He must have slipped the Sibian Root into your scrambled eggs down in the kitchens," Neville put in.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "But how would he know where I was going to sit? Or that I was going to eat scrambled eggs, for that matter? Nobody else got poisoned, did they?"

"Maybe he studied Divination, and saw it in a crystal ball!" said Lavender Brown.                   

"Malfoy never took Divinations," Parvati Patil shook her head. "He takes Runes with my sister."

"He could have used a Time-Turner," Seamus Finnegan suggested, and Harry felt a chill at the prospect of what Malfoy could do with the aide of such a device.

Hermione finally detached herself from Ron, who didn't look at all pleased to let her go. "Where would Malfoy get a Time-Turner? The Ministry keeps very tight control over those things, and they'd never give one to him now that his father has been sent to Azkaban. And if he had one illegally I think we would all be in much worse trouble right now."

"He could have used an Invisibility Cloak and slipped the poison onto Harry's plate once he'd sat down," said Dean Thomas.

"No," said Neville, frowning. "He was sitting at the Slytherin table the whole time. I was watching him. Maybe he cast the Imperius Curse on someone?"

"Yeah," agreed Seamus eagerly. "He could have used some unsuspecting Hufflepuff first-year, and put them under the Cloak."

"If he did, he must have cast the curse off of Hogwarts grounds, or else the wards would have been alerted. Honestly, students can't just go around casting Unforgivables inside the castle! Hasn't anyone read Hogwarts, a History?"

"He could have Polyjuiced someone else to look like him." Ron suggested enthusiastically. "Crabbe or Goyle – I don't think I saw either of them. They could have been pretending to be Malfoy while he was under the Invisibility Cloak."

Hermione frowned skeptically. "You think Crabbe and Goyle would have enough brains between them to impersonate Malfoy?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," Ron said indignantly. "Malfoy's not exactly brilliant himself, is he?"

"All he did was sit and stare at Harry," put in Neville.

But Hermione wasn't convinced. "But where would Malfoy get Polyjuice Potion? It took us a month to brew the stuff and – " she broke off suddenly. All the Gryffindors minus Harry and Ron stared at her with mouths hanging open. Hermione turned pink.

Harry finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "Maybe," he said, thinking of the Chamber of Secrets and his own experiences with Polyjuice Potion. "It wasn't Malfoy at all." Nobody had anything to add to that.

It was at that moment, as if on cue, that Malfoy decided to make his presence felt. "Planning your funeral, are you, Potter? Smart move. You might want to consider sharing a coffin with the Mudblood; she won't last long after you." Ron got out his wand, but Hermione and Neville physically restrained him before he did something he would have regretted. Malfoy smirked. "Make that a three-person coffin, Potter. The weasel will die of heartbreak, no doubt. The only question is over which of you." The other Slytherins chuckled appreciatively.

Harry fumed. "And what are you doing, Malfoy? Holding goon auditions? Where are Crabbe and Goyle? Don't tell me your friends can't even pass a simple Defense O.W.L.?"

Bright pink patches appeared on Malfoy's pale cheeks. "Don't think that I don't know that Granger is the only reason either of you passed anything. Cheated off your Mudblood girlfriend, did you? I can see why, she's not good for anything else."

Harry laughed. "If it makes you feel any better, Malfoy, go ahead and think that."

Before Malfoy could do anything more than plunge his hand into his robes for his wand, Professor Dofton appeared at the end of the hallway, and he was forced to grit his teeth and remain silent. Harry laughed again, mostly just to further infuriate Malfoy.

Professor Dofton smiled around at the students as she unlocked the door to the classroom, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two groups. "Sorry I'm late, but it really has been a long time since I've been here last, and the floor plan has changed considerably," she said in a totally unconvincing voice, her light grey eyes twinkling mischievously. She had her shoulder-length, dark hair pulled back in loose ponytail, and wore pale blue robes that did little to hide her slim figure. She looked fairly youthful, but there were faint worry-lines around her eyes and mouth that suggested otherwise, and altogether Harry was unable to estimate her age.

"So," she continued as the class filed into seats, Gryffindors on one side of the room and Slytherins on the other. Harry sat in the front row, due to the dual virtue of Hermione's insistence and Malfoy's decision to sit all the way in the back. "Welcome to N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Professor Dofton."

"Good morning, Professor Dofton," some of the class grumbled in a monotone, unable to get out of the Umbridge way of doing things.

Dofton looked a bit surprised, but her smile widened all the same. "I see you've been well trained, but 'good afternoon' would have been a bit more appropriate, don't you think?" Several people laughed nervously.

"Now, I'm aware that your education in this field has been rather fragmented, and that last year was spent entirely on theory, but as all of you managed to pass your O.W.L., we shouldn't have much of a problem. But we'll deal with that later," said Professor Dofton, her smile growing wider still as she strolled impressively around to the front of her deck and perched herself on top of the edge of it with an air of supreme satisfaction, crossing her legs daintily.

"Right. Now, since we're going to be spending quite a bit of time together in the coming year, I think it's a good idea if we all got to know each other a little. So," she said, slipping her wand out of the sleeve of her robes and twirling it expertly between the fingers of her right hand. "I'll go first. I was born in France, but my parents were both English, and I grew up in Wales. I was a Ravenclaw here at Hogwarts during the seventies – I'll let you figure out my age for yourselves – and I joined the Ministry as a Hit Wizard after leaving school. I would have become an Auror, but that requires three years of training, and the need for law enforcement was rather urgent back then, as I'm sure you're all aware. Besides," she added with a smirk. "My transfigurations grades were never that good. McGonagall was just as strict back then as she is now, I can tell you.

"The Hit Wizards were disbanded after shortly after You-Know-Who's disappearance, but that doesn't mean I didn't get in a fair bit of practical experience, and I've got the scars to prove it." Her smile turned somewhat grim, Professor Dofton pulled back the left sleeve of her robes and showed the class her bare forearm. For a moment Harry thought Dofton was going to show them the Dark Mark, but what he saw instead was a deep and very nasty looking scar that ran from the base of her thumb all the way up to her elbow. Several members of the class gasped, and Lavender Brown let out a squeal of horror.

"A normal slashing hex would be quite easy to heal magically, but you can always trust Death Eaters to come up with something nasty…" Professor Dofton pulled her sleeve back down and continued with her narrative. "After the end of the war I returned to France, where I spent the last twelve years working for an independent investigative agency. This is my first teaching position, and you are my very first class. Congratulations!"

The self-satisfied grin was back on Dofton's face and she slid gracefully off the desk and began pacing in front of the room, her wand twirling in her hand again. "My favorite color is turquoise, my favorite food is salmon in cream-of-mushroom sauce, and I simply detest grammatical errors of any kind, so if I ever give a written assignment make sure you don't make any." By this time, her smile could only be described as gleeful. "Alright," she said, stopping right in front of Harry's desk. "That's enough about me, now let's hear something about you." She rapped the knuckled of her left hand on Harry's desk. "You start."

Harry, who had been somewhat distracted by the still twirling wand in Dofton's right hand, looked up at her, startled. "What?"

Professor Dofton sighed with exaggerated patience and waved her wand theatrically up and down in front of Harry's face. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Er…," Harry began stupidly. Several of the Slytherins sniggered.

"You can start with your name," Professor Dofton added helpfully, but Harry could tell by the mirth in her eyes that she already knew his name.

"My name is Harry Potter," Harry said reluctantly.

"And?" Professor Dofton prompted, now leaning with both her palms down flat against his desk. "Is there anything important I should know about you?"

Harry shrugged, uncomfortably aware of how close to him she was. "These are my best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," he pointed to either side of himself, where Ron and Hermione were sitting.

Dofton raised her eyebrows. "Is that it?"

"And my favorite color is black," he finished defiantly.

Professor Dofton looked a bit disappointed as she straightened up, but she flashed Harry a wide smile all the same, before moving over to Ron and rapping her wand on his desk. "How about you?" she demanded.

"Uh, my name is Ron Weasley," Ron began nervously. "I have five older brothers and one younger sister… I'm the Keeper of the Gryffindor team, and I've never lost a game. Of chess." Several people, including Harry, laughed.

After that Dofton moved on to Hermione. "My name is Hermione Granger, I received 14 'Outstanding' O.W.L.s last year, and I'm the president of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, whose goal is to improve the social standing and protect the rights of House-Elves worldwide."

Lavender Brown talked about her enthusiasm for Divinations and her new bunny called Buffy. Dean Thomas gave them all a very lengthy and very passionate explanation of the virtues of the Muggle game of soccer, until Professor Dofton finally cut him off to move on to Parvati Patil, who mentioned her twin sister, her friendship with Lavender, and her boyfriend at Bauxbatons. Seamus Finnegan talked about his Irish heritage and Neville Longbottom bored them with his love of all things Herbology, including his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, and his ambition to continue in the field after school.

And so, whether by accident of by design, although Harry would have bet on the latter, judging by Dofton's general provocative manner and the wicked gleam in her eye, the Defense professor finished questioning all the Gryffindors before moving on to the first Slytherin. The front row of seats on the Slytherin side of the room was empty, so Dofton moved on to the second, and sat down on top of the desk directly in front of Pansy Parkison. "And who might you be?" she asked cheerfully.

Pansy looked disgusted, more so than usual. "Pansy Parkison," she sneered. Dofton waved her on so she continued. "I enjoy singing operas, skipping through fields of flowers and petting fluffy bunny rabbits. I think your dress robes are just gorgeous, and DADA is my very favorite class." If Pansy had thought her sarcasm would get a reaction out of Dofton she was disappointed.

The Professor returned Pansy's sickeningly sweet smile with a deeply amused and superior smirk, and turned to the black-haired girl next to her, whom Harry vaguely recognized as one of the girls who occasionally laughed at Pansy's jokes, but whom he had never noticed specifically before. She claimed that her name was Anita Nevski, and that she owned an adorable purple puffskein named Grindelwald.

Next was a boy named Theodore Nott, who went to Harry's Care of Magical Creatures class, could see thestrals, and had a Death Eater father. He didn't say any of this, however; what he said was that he possessed the power to talk to plants. After him was a tall, nondescript-looking brown-haired boy who admitted to going by the name of Blaise Zabini, but claimed his right to silence when questioned further. Harry remembered Phoebe Zabini, and decided that Blaise could have almost passed for a Ravenclaw.

Another Arabic-looking girl stood up and began "My name is Isabella Stearns, and I am an alcoholic." Dofton actually laughed at that, and even Harry had to admit that the obviously Muggle reference was pretty funny. Pansy and some of the other Slytherins threw Isabella dark looks, but she just shrugged and sat back down.

All in all, the only Slytherin whose answer could have had the tinniest bit of sincerity was Millicent Bullstrode, although Harry was willing to write that off as stupidity over anything else. She claimed to be the descendant of a Gorgon. Dofton enjoyed herself tremendously throughout the whole thing.

And then they reached the very back of the room and it was Malfoy's turn. He made a show out of standing up, getting his wand out of the inner pocket of his robes, and attempting to twirl it between his fingers in an obvious imitation of Dofton, but dropping it clumsily down on the desk. "Oops," he smiled sweetly at the Professor before clearing his throat loudly and beginning in his usual drawl, "My name is Draco Malfoy, I was born in June of 1981, and my hair is naturally blond." He paused as if for effect.

Dofton seated herself back on top of her desk and made every appearance of getting ready to listen to a long and deeply interesting tale. Malfoy continued in the most insolent tone he could manage. "My mother enjoys gardening and painting landscapes in watercolor. My father has recently escaped Azkaban prison to rejoin the ranks of the Dark Lord's inner circle and wreck havoc on the unfaithful majority of the Wizarding World. He enjoys killing, torturing, and raping – not necessarily in that order – Mudbloods, Muggle-lovers, and ex-Hit Witches." The class was deadly still.

Dofton raised her eyebrows. The grin was still plastered on her face but it was now most definitely forced. "That's all well and good, Mr. Malfoy, but we're here to hear about you, not your father."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders in a grotesque parody of innocence. "I just thought you would appreciate some background information, Professor." He cleared his throat again before continuing. "My favorite color is green, and my favorite food is Lasagna. My lifetime goals include obtaining a complete set of Chocolate Frog cards, becoming a professional Quidditch player, and bringing about the slow, bloody, and very painful death of one Harry Potter, then casting his mutilated remains into a pit of rabid pixies, then feeding the pixies to Granger's cat, preferably in the presence of the Mudblood herself and her pet Weasel."

Malfoy did a remarkably good job of keeping his gaze focused on Professor Dofton throughout his speech, but even so Harry was taken aback by the level of hatred in his eyes, more so than with the actual meaning of his words. Since when was Malfoy anything more than a petty school rival? Did he, Harry, hate anyone that badly? Voldemort, for sure… and Bellatrix. But Malfoy? Sure he was an annoying little git, but Harry couldn't really hate him, not in the way he hated Voldemort.

Malfoy took a deep breath and continued in a somewhat calmer tone, but his face was now blotched angry read, and his fury was this time most definitely directed at Dofton. "That's illegal, you bitch," he choked out the slur through clenched teeth. Dofton, who had been watching Malfoy intently the whole time, blinked and shook her head slightly before focusing back on him.

"Did what?" she asked in her own brand of mock innocence. Malfoy turned his gaze down to stare at his desk and fumed silently. Harry could almost feel the anger radiating off of him in waves. "Stay after class, Mr. Malfoy," Dofton said easily, but without a trace of a smile on her face. "The rest of you are dismissed."

"What the hell just happened in there?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione as the three of them took the scenic route back to Gryffindor tower less than five minutes later. Harry was just as bewildered as Ron was, but Hermione looked like she had an idea. Unfortunately, the slight frown on her face suggested she wasn't one hundred percent certain, meaning that they would have to drag whatever it was out of her. "Other than Malfoy practically admitting that it was him that poisoned Harry, I mean," Ron continued. "What was he talking about when he said that what Dofton did was illegal? She didn't do anything. Do you reckon he's finally cracked?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, something she'd been doing a lot lately, Harry thought. "Of course he hasn't cracked. Well, not really, anyway. It's just that…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

"So what happened, then?" Ron prompted impatiently.

"Well…"

"Hermione," said Harry, "just tell us already, will you! What do you know that we don't?"

She looked a bit put out. "It's not that I know anything."

"Well, what do you think, then?"

"What I think," Hermione said finally, "is that - and it's pretty obvious, really - Professor Dofton is a Legilimens."

It took a second for Harry and Ron to register the implications of that statement.

"What?" asked Ron, flabbergasted. "How do you figure that?"

"Honestly," said Hermione, shaking her head. "You two need to learn to think: for one thing, she's worked for an investigative agency for twelve years. What kind of skills do you think would be useful for that kind of thing? And Legilimency is illegal, or at least unconsensual Legilimency is."

"So you mean Malfoy wouldn't normally have said all that stuff about wanting to kill me?"

"Well, no, he would have. Legilimency can't be used to actually alter a person's actions; if it could, there would be no need for the Imperius Curse -  I told you Harry, you're not normal.

"Malfoy would have said all that stuff anyway, but he was visibly upset, and that's one of the things that make Legilimency easier. Professor Dofton could have used the opportunity to access his mind. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, if you noticed."

Harry nodded. "Do you think she can get in trouble for that? Since it's illegal and all, I mean."

"I doubt it," said Hermione. "Who's going to believe Malfoy? His father's a Death Eater, and everyone knows it now. Besides," she frowned distastefully, "he just got done confessing his desire to feed you to Crookshanks."

"Stupid thing to do, really," said Ron. "Now we all know it was him that poisoned Harry. He incriminated himself."

"No, we don't know anything," Harry interrupted. "I don't think he could have pulled it off. He's always saying stuff like that, but he's too much of a coward to actually do anything about it."

"You should still be really careful, Harry. He's always said stuff before, but nothing that bad. And even if it wasn't Malfoy, someone poisoned you."

"It's not like I haven't almost died before," Harry shrugged and changed the subject. "Do you think Dumbledore had a specific reason for hiring a Legilimens, or is that just a useful skill that Dofton happens to have?"

Even Ron rolled his eyes this time. "Let's think, Harry. What could Dumbledore possibly want with a Legilimens that isn't Snape? You never really said anything, but Hermione and me somehow got the impression that last year's lessons didn't go all that great."

Harry tried to look offended as they rounded the corner and proceeded down yet another semi-deserted corridor. "They didn't go that bad… well, actually, they did. But that was mostly my own fault," and it hurt to admit that. If Harry had just tried to actually listen to Snape, Sirius might have still been alive now. "And anyway, I don't need any help anymore. You said yourself that what I do with Voldemort isn't normal legilimency, Hermione. I doubt Dofton would be able to help any. If you ask me, she seemed more concerned with the Slytherins than anything."

"Maybe Dumbledore wanted her to sort the potential Death Eaters from the rest of the harmless little snots, if there is such a thing as a 'harmless' Slytherin. That would explain Malfoy getting legilimized."

But Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy only got 'legilimized' because he was upset and an easy target. Dofton took advantage of the situation. Mind you, other than that, it was a good way to start off a Slytherin class. She let them do their worst right from the start, and showed them they couldn't get to her," she said. "I wonder what she'll do to Malfoy."

Ron looked hopeful. "You think he can get expelled for threatening a teacher and a fellow student?"

"I doubt it," said Harry. "Unless someone does prove that it was him who poisoned me. And Dofton invaded Malfoy's mind illegaly, so I guess it evens out. You can't expel someone for throwing a fit," Harry winced slightly, "or else Dumbledore would have had to throw me out for wrecking his office last year. I reckon he'll just get off with a warning and maybe a couple of detentions, depending on what Dofton saw."

Hermione frowned. "That was pretty graphic, though, even for Malfoy. I wasn't aware he even knew I had a cat."

"His father has just been revealed to be an evil Death Eater and sent to prison," said Ron wisely. "It must be pretty upsetting, losing all that political influence and crap."

Harry shrugged. "Still, you'd think he'd get over it now that Lucius is out of Azkaban. It's not like it's my fault his father's a Death Eater in the first place," he said bitterly. "My godfather is dead, and that is my fault. Stupid prat."

Hermione and Ron never did figure out if the last two words referred to Malfoy, Sirius, or Harry himself.

Author's Notes: Next chapter: Stuff happens! Time passes really quickly! I get through all the rest of the introductory crap; the real plot starts after Halloween. J As always, please Review.