DADA Class

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize in this book is completely J.K. Rowlings. I wish it was mine, but it's not. Only Elane and Adessa are mine, though two more charries of mine will show up later.

REVIEW WHEN YOU FINISH READING! PLEASE!!

All my reviewers have gone away! *goes in a corner and cries*

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"Mo-om!" Adessa whined to her mother, "That's not fair! I was only stopping Snape from erasing the wrong potion! Why are you giving me a *beeping* detention? What did I do to deserve this? I only helped my charge from getting a failing grade on his Letharga Potion! Why?"

Professor Elane Thompson swung around from leaning on her bed and grabbed her daughters shoulders and shook them slightly. "Do you realize how god damn close you got to getting us /both/ caught???" At Adessa's confused look, she sighed and waved her arm in a circular motion, the palm flat as if against a wall.

An image appeared in midair.

The image there was Adessa reprimanding the Potions Master, then summoning a wisp of that smoke. That image flickered into black, then another rose from the depths. This was of Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his office, looking over some official looking paper. He suddenly straightened, his brows drawn together in startlement and confusion, then Elane came charging in his office, obviously having come from the lavatory, and touched a finger to his forehead. A little flash of white light passed, to find Professor Thompson perched elegantly in a plushy chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, looking at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her brows flitting together.

"Yes, yes...Elane? What were we talking about?" Confusion seemed to be his emotion of the day. "I seem to have dozed off for a moment. It must be oncoming age." The professors chuckled a bit over that.

"I was just discussing the last minute details of my Defense against the Dark Arts class now changed to...."

And the image faded.

"Now change to what?" Adessa asked curiously after sighing her relief, her head leaning to one side as she contemplated her mother's words.

"Nothing to do with you, honey. Now go to lunch." A conspirators look crossed Elane's features. Her feet shifted slightly.

"Tell me. I can read that you have a secret, even without you blinking every five seconds. It's quite obvious to my p----"

"Alright, that's enough. Now go to lunch." She commanded, then just when Adessa was about to open the door, she said, "And don't, under any circumstances, well, unless, you know--, never mind, use any of your powers outside this room or anywhere else on the Hogwarts property. I'm not even sure this is still safe."

"Are your protections still functional?" Concern seemed to be everyone's look today.

Another strange wave of the mother's hand, and the walls were suddenly bathed with a white pulsing light, which faded after Adessa's satisfied click of her tongue. "Can I still converse with the winds? If only to get the latest info on my sis...."

"Yes, yes, if you must. Now go!" She replied with a mocking glare.

"Good. See you later mom." And with that, she opened the door, and flounced out into the hallway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So what class is next for you guys?" Ron asked with a forced grin, as he finished chugging his pumpkin juice with a satisfied sigh.

"We have the same class, Ron." Hermione said with a roll of her eyes as she took her place at the table. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, with the new teacher Professor Elane." A pointed look was aimed at Harry. "Or Adessa's mother." Hermione scowled slightly as Harry's face brightened, then she grabbed a piece of white bread. "If we don't hurry, we are going to be late. And how would that look on our first day."

And with that, she marched out of the Great Hall, with a disorganized Harry and Ron trailing behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five minutes later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had given the password to the Fat Lady and had entered the large common room. A new notice caught Harry and Hermione's eyes and they grabbed Ron from going up to the bedrooms and pulled him over. They had to scare away a group of third years to get a closer look.

The message read;

ALL SIXTH YEAR DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS STUDENTS: YOU MUST WEAR THE SPECIAL UNIFORMS TO CLASS PROVIDED UPON YOUR TRUNKS IN YOUR ROOMS.

It was signed Elane Thompson in a loopy script.

"Well?" Hermione said impatiently as Harry and Ron continued to stare at the notice, as if trying to find a secret message. "Should we go see this 'special uniform'? We had Defense Against the Dark Arts soon."

"Yeah, let's go look." And the trio hurried up to their respective rooms. They found a pair of thick rough pants and a hooded shirt along with a t-shirt and shorts, all in a dark grey with golden and red hems. Harry smiled when he saw them, for he knew what they were. A screech from the girl's dormitory called the boys back to the common room, where they heard Hermione yell again, "Sweats!"

Looks from around the crowded room were drawn, and Ron could be plainly heard to say, "What are these bloody things?"

Hermione was now in the common room, and she grinned happily from beneath the things that had been in the guy's rooms. "Sweats!" She said irritably, "For working out! They're really comfortable!" At Dean and Seamus's dubious looks, she rolled her eyes and her sleeve. "Feel the inside. It's soft." Soft ohs came from all the wizarding-born boys, and by now the girls had come down, all in grey. Parvati's voice had a tint of annoyance as she place her hands on her hips, "Go change!" She ordered them, and they scurried to do her bidding, while Hermione and Lavender giggled. After all the boys had changed, they all gathered down in the common room to see the girls waiting for them there. Talking.

At the noise of the boys stomping down the stairs, Hermione looked up then leaped up as well. "Tripes! We're late!" She said, and they all went charging out of the portrait hall – leaving a very disgruntled Fat Lady behind – and hurried to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the Gryffindors reached the classroom, the doors were shut and locked. They paused outside, winded from the near headlong race from the Tower. The Gryffindors stopped in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts closed doors, and Ron tried to pull them open.

"Nothing." He said as he stepped back from the doors, but just after turning away, the doors swung open of their own accord. Professor Thompson then stepped through, and shut the doors quietly behind her. She was wearing sweats as well, though hers were a pure white.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts." She began, "The reason we are all standing in the hall right now is because my daughter, I'm sure you all have met Adessa, is preparing the room for today's, and everyday's, lesson. I know you must be wondering, 'why are we wearing these weird Muggle clothes,' but don't worry. All will soon be explained." The professor met all their eyes one by one, "This class is different from any others that I am teaching, but before I can say more, will you please all leave your books and bags outside the door. Don't leave your wands, though you'll not be needing them, because I'm sure Peeves will steal them." She grinned widely at the Poltergeist who was floating by while whistling innocently, apparently not noticing the groans that met her words of "you will not be needing" the wands. She continued, "My daughter should be ready now, so let us proceed."

The professor turned to the doors and pushed them open gently. The Gryffindors gasped at the room before them, for it was nothing like the DADA room they remembered from their first four years. It was a huge room now, high ceilinged, and all the desks had been moved to one wall and stacked there. What had once been marble on the floor was now a squishy sponge-ish material that you almost sank into when you stepped onto it. In the center waited Adessa, in the same sweats as the other Gryffindors and her mother, yet hers were a pitch black. The new Gryffindor looked up as they approached the white line drawn upon the black floor, and stepped up to join the Gryffindors ranks.

"Thank you, Dessa." Professor Thompson nodded her head to her daughter. "Alright. Now I shall explain. This class, and the classes from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in this year, has already learned both the basic and advanced magics, according," She coughed slightly, "To Dumbledore who told me of an illegal," She coughed again, "Club started last year." A few nervous twitters from the crowd and Harry's blush drew another smile from the Professor. "So, in light of this news, I decided that reviewing this curses and defenses would be wasted time, because I heard also who was running this, hm, club." Her eyes locked with Harry's. "I also know why the club was founded," A wink. "And I also know the results, as all of you do." The professor paused then seemed to brace herself for a plunge off something.

"The course for this year is going to be, not how to defend yourselves with a wand, but with your own strength, agility, and speed. This is going to be mostly consisting of a physical workout, and a martial training. This class should really be called DAMA, for Defense Against the Martial Arts! Hahahaha..." She began laughing at her own pun, but when only a few twitters came from her audience, she quieted and returned to seriousness. The class, however, were dubiously glancing at each other.

"Now in this class, we will study the proper ways to defend ones self. Now I'm sure your wondering, 'why on earth would we ever need this?' and I would answer that there are dark forces out in the world right now, not only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but others working in league with him." The mother's eyes met her daughters and Harry noticed they seemed to sparkle a bit, but when she continued talking, he assumed it must have been the flickering candles. "There are many sits. in which you might need the means to defend your self without a wand... Yes?"

A hand had risen in the back of the Gryffindors, and nobody was surprised when it was Hermione's. "What's a sit?" she asked, and the Defense Professor winced and wrinkled her nose.

"Am I letting my American side out? Oh well. 'Sits' are just situations abbreviated. There are a lot of abbreviated words in the U.S." Some giggles met those words, and the woman seemed to hearten, then said, "Now where was I... Oh, yes. Some situations where one might need to defend ones self without a wand could be if your trying to get to your wand, your wand might be damaged, you might not have access to your wand though it's with you, or you could plain just not have it. The list just goes on." A roll of her eyes came with that statement. "So in this class we shall learn the basics of defending yourself, and hopefully we shall get to the special and more difficult moves to disarm and even disable an opponent. Now if everyone will please line up on this line please."

The Gryffindors hurried to do her bidding, some grumbles erupted, but Professor Thompson soon began talking again.

"In this class, no whining, sniveling, or complaining will be prohibited. I am a hard taskmaster, for I was placed under the Mistress Caroline McDonavan when I was just five, and I studied under her for seven years until I was invited to the Elementary American School of Magic. I have adopted her technique, and I'm sorry if I'm harsh." The professor was now pacing up and down the line, her hands clasped behind her back. "I will try to help as much as I can, supporting you, not condoning you, helping you, but I cannot do any of those things if you do not try! I expect full effort from everyone in this class, and if I don't get it . . . I will have consequences."

Adessa's mother stopped pacing and was now holding still, only her eyes taking in every movement her students made. "I am doing this for you, you know, not for myself. Not for the money. Not for my daughter. For you. And what you learn in this class may save you from falling in the upcoming war, and fall some of you will." The seriousness and solemness of the class was suddenly lifted when an evil grin appeared on her face. "That's also why I am teaching a normal class for the Slytherins. I was warned they were a nasty, whiny, complainy bunch, and none of them were in Harry's elite last year," Yet another cough came from Professor Elane Thompson, and her daughter delicately offered her something called a 'cough drop'. "So what I'm basically saying," Elane interrupted her daughter, "Is that effort is what's important in this class. If you put in effort, I can help." She carefully looked each student in front of her in the eye.

"Alright. On a lighter note, let's get started." The martial arts teacher began, "Adessa here, my daughter, will help me demonstrate and instruct, though she still has a long way to go . . ."

"Mom!" Adessa protested, but her mother continued.

"Yes, dear, now everyone watch closely while how Dessa shows you how to properly fall without hurting yourself. It is often not the blow inflicted on a body that injures it the most, but more often the fall that comes after that can hurt the body more. Now show them, Dessa."

"But mom," The professor's daughter began, looking pole-axed. "I thought we'd start with staff work! At least with hand to hand combat . . . " Dessa broke off at the look in her mother's eyes. "Okay, okay . . . " And with that she let herself fall to the ground, and smacked the ground, landing flat on her stomach with her hands planted firmly on the ground. With a sigh, she got up off the ground, and dusted herself off. "Again!" Elane said, and with another sigh, she smacked the ground again. "Now all of you try! Don't hurt each other!" Muffled thumps were music to Elane's ears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Alright! That's enough!" Professor Thompson called after an hour and a half's thumping on the ground and a billion bruises. "Everyday I'm going to let you out of class half an hour early so you can have time to go up to your tower to shower and change." The young professor paused and posed dramatically. "Aren't I just soooooo nice!" A few short laughs were all that could be expected from the tired class.

Everyone began to file out of the room, waving weary farewells to the professor and her daughter. Elane suddenly ran to the door and yelled, "Oh! I forgot! No homework!! Now aren't I the nicest?" And a few cheers met her words. She went back in her class room.

"I'd say that was successful, wouldn't you Dessa?" Elane asked her daughter as they walked up to her rooms.

"Yes, mom, it was." Adessa replied with a shrug, "I think they were a bit, um, astounded by your speech though. And by the bruises. Did you really have to carry it out that long? You repeated yourself many times."

Elane winced, and her shrug matched her daughters to the shirt ripples. "Oh well. At least they got an impression." After Elane had entered her rooms, she noticed her daughter was still with her. "Don't you have to go back to the Tower? It's almost bedtime." A shifty look appeared in Adessa's eyes. "What aren't you telling me? Are the girls not nice?" Her daughter still wouldn't look her in the eyes. "Tell me!" The mother demanded.

"I couldn't sleep . . . " A small oh appeared around Elane's mouth as she realized what Adessa implied.

"Well . . . I suppose you could sleep here for tonight . . . " A happy squeal issued from Dessa as she hugged her mother tight.

"Thanks mom! Can I crack the window too?" Adessa's voice was breathless with happiness.

"I suppose . . . But you owe me, girl!" Elane said with a smile as she changed into her p.j.'s and hopped into her bed. She watched calmly as he daughter cracked the single window open an inch and made a pulling gesture with her hand. A wind swept in through the crack, and slowly lifted Adessa's feet off the floor until her body was stretched out parallel to the floor. A sigh of contentment echoed over from the girl floating on a breath of wind.

"Thanks, mom." She said quietly, "Good night."

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AN: Hey all! Or at least, the lack of all. *sigh* I hope you liked it. And the plot just thickens, or, well, there's really no plot introed yet is there. Well...unless you caught the hint up there. I hope you like my idea about defending one's self with out a wand class. No, Kirseth, not fetching. And if anyone noticed a similarity in the teaching the class how to "fall" between here and "First Test" by Tamora Pierce, yes you're right. I got the idea from there. I hope you liked it!

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