Chapter 3: Stupidity Comes Standard

When Harry woke up, he found Ron standing over him shaking him rather violently to wake him. Oddly enough Harry hadn't dreamed at all, and he was peeved at Ron for having woken him from such a peaceful slumber. "What is it?" Harry asked grumpily. He glanced to the window and noticed that it was light outside. "Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, leaping from the chair he'd slept in.

"We're going to be late for breakfast, Harry!" Ron said loudly to Harry's back as he rushed to the boys' dorms. He sounded rather worried, and rightly so because today they got their schedules. Harry stopped and turned back to Ron with one foot on the bottom stair leading up to the boys' dorms.

"We won't be late," he told Ron. "I will be late. Go on, I'll meet you down there." Ron nodded and turned to exit through the portrait hole, but stopped and turned back to Harry.

"I'm sorry about last night," Ron apologized. "I was just..."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said quickly. "Just get going or you'll be late too." Again Ron nodded and Harry raced up the stairs, not waiting to see if Ron was going. He showered as quickly as he could manage and threw on his robes then grabbed his wand and book bag and anything else he would need then rushed down the stairs to the common room and out of Gryffindor Tower. Five minutes later he plopped down at the Gryffindor table next to Ron, completely out of breath. Hermione sat across the table from him and she frowned at him with her fork half-raised to her mouth.

"You sent a letter last night, didn't you?" she accused. Harry stared at her, mouth agape. How the hell did she do that? It seemed like she always knew when he had been breaking school rules.

"How did you...?" he started to ask. He glanced to Ron, who merely shrugged and shoved a piece of sausage into his mouth.

"Simple, but Ron had nothing to do with it," Hermione shrugged. "I know you hardly get to send letters over the summer and would therefore be eager to write to Snuffles. So, I put the parchment and ink and quill on that table next to your favorite chair." She gave a self-satisfied and very smug smile.

"Weh," Ron said, mouth full of food, "it cou've bin sumun ols dat oosed da pochment." Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste at his manners.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Ron," she scolded him. Quickly he swallowed the food in his mouth.

"I said it could've been someone else that used the parchment," Ron repeated more clearly now that nothing was obstructing his words.

"Yeah," Harry said, suddenly indignant, "how do you know it wasn't someone else?" He nearly glared across the table at her.

"Because, you bonehead," Hermione sighed, "you were sitting in front of the fire with the Invisibility Cloak in your lap." She took a sip of her juice and frowned at him. "You're lucky that I got to the common room before anyone else or they might have stolen the cloak, or worse, reported it to McGonagall." Harry suddenly realized that the cloak hadn't been with him when Ron had woken him. He had forgotten about it in his rush to get to breakfast. He assumed that Hermione had it now. He saw Ron roll his eyes, but he had to admit that Hermione was good. No one else would have thought to leave a trap for him.

Harry's stomach growled rather loudly, reminding him that he was hungry, and he started to pile eggs, bacon, sausage, and other foods onto his plate. He peered around, trying to decide what he wanted to drink and noticed a boy sitting at the end of the table that he didn't recognize. The boy was about six feet tall with a fairly muscular build. He had rather long, curly, brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing what Harry recognized as headphones that were attached to a portable CD player. He had never used one because they were so expensive, but Dudley had on. He was surprised to see a magical person taking part in technology. Most, if not all, magical persons mistrusted technology, relying on their own magical abilities rather than a device such as this boy had. The boy was shaking his head about wildly, his fair flying every which way, as he mouthed the words to whatever song he was listening to. Harry's brows drew together in consternation. He knew everyone beyond year one in Gryffindor by face and name, yet here was a boy whose identity eluded him. Perhaps he was just another first year, though Harry doubted it because he hadn't seen the boy at the Sorting Ceremony last night. Besides that, the other looked much too old to be a first year.

"Who is that boy at the end of the table?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione without taking his eyes off of the boy.

"I don't know," Hermione replied as she turned tot he brown-haired boy as well. Ron hadn't even heard the question, being too engrossed in a discussion about whether fruit cake was good or not with Dean and Seamus. Harry shrugged and started filling his mouth with food. He would figure this mystery out later, but right now he was hungry. Harry cleaned his plate within minutes, pick it up and licking it in an attempt to get every morsel of food. He looked up at Hermione when she "Humph"-ed in distaste and set the plate down. He then picked up his glass and tilted his head back, draining the last of the grape juice he had settled on.

Harry glanced to the professors' table and noticed that Dumbledore was standing. Immediately the Great Hall was completely silent with the exception of the CD player of the boy at the end of the table. It was blasting some type of hard-core rock and roll into his ears that, despite the headphones being on the boy's head, reverberated off the walls of the Great Hall. Students from every house sat staring at Dumbledore, anxiously awaiting news of the drow, who Harry now knew to be name Drizzt Do'Urden. For about the fiftieth time this morning, Harry wondered about Drizzt. Why was he being allowed to roam free through the castle if he was so dangerous? Someone nudged the boy at the end of the table and he took his headphones off and, realizing what was going on, quickly shut the device off.

"Welcome back, all," Dumbledore said now that he had everyone's attention, "and welcome to our newest students. I know your housemates will make you feel at home." There was a murmur at the tables as the upper-year students assured the first-years of the truth in the headmaster's words. "Also, I would like Gryffindor to please welcome your newest housemate, Mr. Riff Strite." Harry looked at Ron with a confused expression, then to Hermione, but both seemed just as clueless about the matter as he. Then something dawned in his mind and he glanced to the end of the table to see the new boy standing, CD player in hand, headphones about his neck, and a wide grin playing on his lips.

"Hiya," Riff greeted merrily, "it's a pleasure to meet you folks."

"Mr. Strite," Dumbledore began again, regaining everyone's attentions, "has just transferred here from America. He is in his sixth year."

Harry turned to Ron again as Riff seated himself again. "Transferred," Harry mused, "can people really do that?" Ron shrugged. Well isn't he just a load of help? Harry thought bitterly.

"It's very rare," Hermione answered his question from across the table. "Maybe once or twice every ten years or so. It's because no two schools of magic are alike. Some may require different courses or more years to graduate, but transfers do happen. Although, I don't think Hogwarts has had a transfer student from America in decades." She pursed her lips in thought and turned to stare at Riff as if she thought she could somehow probe his mind from this distance and find the answer to whatever question had arisen in her mind.

"Obviously," Ron said sarcastically. Hermione's head snapped back and her icy glare seemed to pierce right through him. She opened her mouth to say something biting to him, but Dumbledore's voice stopped her.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, "due to last evening's events, I believe I owe you all an annual speech, hmm? Again, welcome back and I am sure that you will all do quite well in your studies. As you all know, the Dark Forest is off limits to students and curfew is nine o'clock sharp. All visits to Hogsmeade are for the third year students and older only, and I hope that you've all brought your permission forms signed by a parent or guardian as you will not be allowed to visit Hogsmeade without them. Oh, and Fred, George..." He paused for a moment, looking the Weasley twins over with a wry smile. "Do try to stay out of trouble this year, hmm?" Several students chuckled, all knowing full well that Fred and George were likely to get into trouble just getting from one class to the next. The twins nodded and grinned widely. "Now for the big news. In a few moments your house heads will be passing out your schedules. All third year students and older will find a new course on their schedules, physical combat." Confused and excited whispers broke out though the Great Hall. Most wizards and witches, except for Harry it seemed, had had some sort of training in physical combat. Harry knew that the course had been offered at Hogwarts a long time ago, but no one had taught it at the school since Voldemort had vanished. Harry realized why the students were required to take the subject again. He had heard the rumors that Voldemort was gathering an army just like everyone else had. It was all the bloody Daily Prophet mentioned of late. Until last year, no one had believed that Voldemort was back, but now all they ever did was caution against letting "the dark side overcome" and such rubbish as that. Frankly, Harry was quite sick of it. Dumbledore must want to make sure that the students could handle such an army as Voldemort's. And since orcs, goblins, giants and other humanoid creatures of the like had an innate immunity to magic, the only way to kill them was to defeat them in combat. Yet, such creatures couldn't come near Hogwarts. Due to a magical boundary around the grounds1 they were kept in the Dark Forest and elsewhere off of Hogwarts grounds. Besides that, Harry had no idea who would teach them to fight.

"I know you are all wondering who will be teaching the subject," Dumbledore grinned. "That is why I would like to introduce to you your newest professor." Harry's heart seized in fear as the doors of the Hall opened to admit a tall black-skinned figure with white hair and two scimitars belted at his waist that swayed with his steps. Harry remembered those scimitars from the evening before. He also remembered the air about Drizzt, the drow elf, that spoke of an extreme competence in the use of the deadly looking blades and hung thickly about the drow. "Please welcome Drizzt Do'Urden." Dumbledore began applauding as Drizzt sauntered through the door. The other professors merely glared, their apparent lack of fear telling Harry they already knew of it. Harry noticed the intense hatred burning in the eyes of the Divination professor, Azul Sobre. The students, for their part, were a whole different story. There was a sharp intake of air as every student gasped and held his or her breath. Every student, that is, except Harry, Riff, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy.

"That thing can't teach us to fight!" Draco whined into the silence. All the students turned to him. "It would kill us in a heart beat! Not to mention the fact that the ministry and my father will never allow it!" He looked around the Slytherin table at his housemates with a smug grin.

"Oh, shut the hell up, you god-damn moron!" Everyone turned simultaneously to see Riff standing and shaking his head with a look of sheer disgust on his face.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, filthy mudblood?" Draco shot back. Laughter issued from the Slytherin table while all of the Gryffindors gasped in shock. The term mudblood was a term used to insult any wizard or witch that was not pure-blooded and everyone knew that it was of the highest offense to call another wizard that. Riff's hands balled into fists and Harry looked at the professors who were all sitting stock-still, staring at the two in disbelief. Dumbledore looked from one of the two to the other for a few moments and then began conversing in hushed tones with Drizzt as if nothing were happening at all.

"And just how would you know that I'm a mudblood, asshole?" Fire blazed in Riff's eyes as he glared at Draco heatedly. Harry didn't know Riff at all, but he was suddenly glad that Draco was across the room. He had the feeling that the blonde-haired boy would have been on the ground in a bloodied mess by now were it different.

"Well, what else would someone from America be?" Draco smirked. Harry hadn't thought it possible, but Riff's rage seemed to deepen as Draco's words acted as a pile of dead leaves would, making a fire flare brightly. The rest of the Gryffindors had apparently sensed the anger too, and were ready to either hold him back or jump in and help him. Everyone's fear of Drizzt' had been forgotten in the moment. Luckily, though, Riff stayed where he was.

"Better to be an American mudblood than a pure-blooded, sniveling, little coward. My god, you can't even stand the sight of a drow elf before you go running to daddy with some story of how the mean, old head master forced you to actually work at something. I've seen your type before. We've got loads of them back in the States. You like to talk big, but when push comes to shove you're the one hiding in the corner, not to be seen again until you can take credit for something that you had no part in." With every word Riff's anger seemed to diminish little by little. Harry sat in shocked silence with the rest of the students in the Hall. No one had ever heard anyone go off on Draco like that before. No one was brave enough to do so, for fear that he'd send his lackeys after them or set his father and the Ministry of magic after them. However, remarkable as it was, it was Draco's turn to be angry now.

"I'll not have my life placed in jeopardy by him!" Draco shrieked, pointing a long, accusing finger at Dumbledore. "Father will hear of this and that thing will be put to death!"

"Jeopardy?" Riff said with a look of utter confusion on his face. He glanced at Dumbledore and then back to Draco. "Who's placed your life in jeopardy? Certainly not the headmaster. Near as I can figure, he's doing all of us a favor." He made a broad, sweeping motion that took in the whole of the Great Hall to indicate who "us" was exactly. "Now, I'm no genius. Hell, half the fucking time I can't get my spells to work right. But I know that Voldemort's been gathering an army of creatures that our magic can't hurt." The Great Hall as a whole flinched at the mention of Voldemort. "There's only one way we can hurt those damn things and that's the beat the living hell out of them. Do you know how to fight that well? I sure as hell don't. Who better to teach us how to do that than him?" He jerked a thumb toward Drizzt who was still speaking with Dumbledore. "I mean, if what they say about drow is true, then he's got to be an excellent fighter. An just in case that's not enough for you, then you'll follow the drow's instructions because Dumbledore said so. I'm sorry if that ain't your cup of tea, but he's the headmaster and what he says goes. Deal!"

"Oh, so you're a friend of the drow?" Draco glared at Riff heatedly, then suddenly he smiled. He smiled as well as a slimy snake in the grass can smile anyway. "Are you an orc-lover too? You know, you kind of look like an orc." Riff's anger rushed back in a matter of seconds. Harry was on the edge of his seat, ready to jump into Riff's path if need be. But Draco was quite done just yet. "Or maybe your mother fucked an orc and out popped you. Yes, that's it I'll wager. Your father must've been an orc." This seemed to be the last straw, and before anyone could make a move to stop him, Riff was off across the Great Hall. He reached Draco just at the professors realized what was happening and had risen. Riff tackled Draco to the ground and commenced in punching him in the face repeatedly. It wasn't until now that Dumbledore apparently realized what was going on and stopped talking to Drizzt. Harry hadn't realized it, but he was on his feet, rushing toward Riff and Draco. The professors were all doing the same, but Drizzt got there first.

Pulling Riff off of Draco, Drizzt swung him around forcefully and shoved him at Harry and a few other students—Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alike—who grabbed him and held him back from Draco with extreme effort. The boy was as strong as an ox and he was trying with all of his might to get back to Draco. When Harry looked, he saw Drizzt standing in front of Draco and Snape helping the other boy off of the ground. Draco's face was a bloodied mess, his nose seemed to be broken and a couple of his teeth were lying on the floor where he had spit them out. He spat a bit of blood on the marble floor and snarled at Riff. Seeing this, a new surge of strength rushed through his body and the students holding him back nearly lost their hold, but luck was with them.

"Don't you ever speak of my mother, you slimy little piece of shit!" Riff screamed at Draco. Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore's voice boomed out before he got anything out.
"Enough!" Dumbledore's normally placid tone had been replaced by stern reproach and anger. "Severus, take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. Mr. Strite, sit down or I will be forced to stun you." Riff stopped struggling and ripped his arms free from the ones holding him, his robes causing slight "rug burn" on their hands as it passed through. The students around him relaxed a bit. Harry could tell that Riff resented the headmaster for not letting him have another go at Draco. At this point, McGonagall stormed up to him and was just about to begin ranting at him about breaking school rules and such when the headmaster spoke again. "Professor, please...Mr. Strite, this is unacceptable. It is your first day and already you have managed to break school rules. You will serve two weeks of detention with the caretaker after dinner." Snape was just leading Malfoy out of the room, coincidentally past Riff, when the blonde-haired boy smirk through the blood on his face. McGonagall witnessed the act and grimaced.

"You will be joining him, Mr. Malfoy," she nearly spat. "Not only for your interrupting the headmaster, but also for your uncalled for and totally out-of-line comments to Mr. Strite." Draco's smirk was immediately wiped form his face only to have its place taken by a look of utter indignance and complete anger. Harry lead Riff back to the Gryffindor table as Snape and Draco exited the Great hall. Dumbledore looked at Drizzt then waved his wand to clear the blood that Draco had lost from the floor.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, returning to the front of the Hall, "Drizzt will be teaching you physical combat. You are all to follow his instructions as you would a normal professor. You need not fear for your safety. Drizzt will not hurt you, and just in case, we've placed a spell on him. If he attacks anyone who does not rightfully deserve it, he will feel immense pain so that he cannot think straight, much less fight. Now for your schedules." Again, Dumbledore went back to conversing with Drizzt as the House Heads began to circle around the tables handing out schedules.

Harry took his schedule from McGonagall tensely, praying that he had done poorly enough on his potions O.W.L. that he wouldn't have to endure Snape's lessons for another year. However, despite the potions master's hatred of Harry, he had double potions with the Slytherins this afternoon. He ran quickly down his list, letting out a groan at several of his classes, and found that he had Drizzt first this morning.

Ron's face held visible fear and anger at both having Drizzt first, and at having to take a class taught by the elf in the first place. Harry could tell that he would get an ear-full about the situation later and dared not tell Ron about his experience in the owelery the night before. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be interested in the matter.

"I guess that now we'll get to see whether Ron's fearsome drow is everything he's made out to be by the stories," she said lightly and a little mockingly to Ron. But the next moment she was declaring her outright disgust quite loudly at having to take Divination, her least favorite subject.

"I guess we will," Harry said under his breath as his heart started to thump wildly with nervousness. As soon as breakfast was over everyone began running to their classes. It was a short enough walk to the Room of Requirement. Nothing like the walk to Divination, thank Mielikki. When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived, they got quite a shock. They had expected that there be weapons and armor and shields and all sorts of things one would need for combat. After all, it was a class on physical combat. What they had not expected was to find a room nearly the size of the Great hall, every wall lined with weapons. Harry felt his jaw drop. Never had he imagined that such a collection of weapons existed. He saw whips, sword, halberds, pikes, axes, knives, maces, and about a dozen other weapons that he could identify—as well as about a dozen that he could not. At the far end of the room was a desk and a bookshelf filled with books. Next to the bookshelf was a wooden door, closed and most likely locked. Around the edge of the room sat cushions, but there were no desks or tables save for the one at the other end of the room.

Harry saw Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan motioning to them from cushions near the desk. Draco's friends sat on the other side of the room, but Draco wasn't with them. Harry smiled at that. "There's Dean and Seamus," Ron said, starting for the pair. Hermione followed after a quick glance at the bookshelf behind the desk. Most probably she wanted to go through those books. Harry took up the rear behind Hermione as a few other students started crowding into the room behind him. He took a seat next to Hermione and got out a quill, ink, and a scrap of parchment.

"Where's the professor?" Hermione asked aloud. As if her question had been a summons, the door next to the bookcase opened and Drizzt stepped out. Harry's eyes wandered to the curved blades belted at his waist. He had seen Voldemort kill Cedric with a blade like that not two years before. The man had whipped it from its scabbard and cut a clean line across Cedric's neck before Harry could so much as blink. The memory of Cedric's lifeless body lying there before Harry made him shudder slightly.

Drizzt's lavender orbs flitted quickly around the room, counting heads, and rested briefly on Harry before moving on. "Good morning," the ebon-skinned elf greeted with a smile. "You all know why you are here, so I have no reason to tell you what the course is about. We will begin learning the basics of combat soon, but first there are a few guidelines you must know." At that moment the door out into the corridor opened to admit Riff. Drizzt's eyes snapped onto the boy icily.

"Mr. Strite, you're late."

"I'm sorry Professor. I was..." Riff started, but Drizzt cut him off quickly.

"I did not ask for your excuses. Class starts at eight o'clock sharp. However, I'm in a good mood today and it's the first day, so I'll allow you this one transgression. Now take your seat and never let it happen again." Riff nodded and hurried to take the only empty seat on the Gryffindor side of the room—coincidentally right next to Harry—and began unpacking his supplies.

"Don't bother unpacking your things, Mr. Strite. They won't be needed. In fact, everyone needs to put everything away, including your wands. In most of the classes you'll be taking this year you will have to do book work or perform magic in order to receive a good mark. In this class you will have to prove to me that your combat skills are improving to earn them. After today all of your things besides the weapons issued to you will be left at the door when you enter this room. Is that understood?" A murmur ran around the room and several of the students nodded their heads. The initial fear of Drizzt had worn off in most of the students, but they were still fairly uncomfortable around him despite Dumbledore's spells and assurances of safety.

"Good...now as I was saying, there are guidelines that you must know. For one, never be late to this class. Punctuality is a sign of responsibility and discipline. Both are needed to correctly wield a weapon of any kind. Two, never speak out of turn. If you feel the need to talk to your neighbor, don't. If you need to ask a question, raise your hand." He glanced around the room quickly and his eyes came to rest upon Ron. "What is your name, boy?" Ron paled visibly when Drizzt spoke to him. Harry wondered if he would even be able to speak.

"Ron," Ron managed after a long moment's hesitation, "my name is Ron Weasley."

"All right, Mr. Weasley," Drizzt smiled, trying vainly to take the fear from Ron's face, "what are the first two rules I've given you?"

"Er...don't be late and don't talk out of turn?" Ron said it more like a question, as if her were not sure, than a statement of fact.

"Very good, Mr. Weasley," Drizzt praised him, "five points to Gryffindor. Now then, a few extras. You will address me as sir or Drizzt. I do not feel comfortable with this 'professor' title. Also, in a few moments you will be choosing your weapons. They have a few guidelines as well. So..." Drizzt paused a moment and looked around the room for about the tenth time. "How many of you have ever had any training in physical combat?" Slowly, tentatively, all but maybe five hands went into the air.

"Hmm..." Drizzt mused, "well whatever you've learned, forget it. There are two ways to approach physical combat. There's my way, and then there's the wrong way. It it's not my way, then it's wrong." Drizzt's head snapped around to the Slytherin side of the room where Draco's lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, were snickering rather loudly to themselves.

"You two," the ebon-skinned elf said, his eyes coming to rest lightly on the pair, "can you repeat what I just said?" Harry smiled faintly as the two boys cringed in fear when Drizzt said spoke to them. Simultaneously they shook their heads, saying nothing and making no noise. The students nearest them began to lower their eyes to the floor, trying very hard to seem insignificant so as not to bring Drizzt's wrath upon themselves as well.

"I didn't think so," Drizzt replied. Suddenly he walked to a weapons cabinet against one wall and grabbed a longbow and single arrow. He nocked and drew the bow and pointed it at Goyle in one swift motion. This time the students near him began to try and move away from him. Goyle himself threw his hands up into the air and Harry was about to say something to try and get Drizzt to calm down when he swung the bow and his body around to face the singular desk at the other end of the room. Letting the arrow fly, Drizzt swung the bow up over his shoulder and everyone watched as the arrow hit the edge of the desk and rebounded toward a sword hanging on the wall. Again the arrow struck and rebounded once again, this time back toward the elf. Before anyone could so much as blink, Drizzt had a scimitar out and had deflected the arrow straight up into a crack in the stone, where it sunk in to the mortar solidly.

Drizzt sheathed his blade and returned the bow to its cabinet then turned on Crabbe and Goyle again. Hushed whispers broke throughout the room about what had just transpired. No one really knew what to think about that.

"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle," Drizzt began to smile brightly, "when you are able to repeat what I just did, move for move, then and only then will you be allowed to speak freely in my classroom. Ten points from Slytherin." Drizzt clapped his hands once and then intertwined his fingers. "Now that that is out of the way, it's time to choose your weapons. The only thing that you must remember when choosing a weapon is that the weapon must fit you and feel comfortable in your hands. As well, you must decide if you wish to fight using one weapon or two. Those interested in the two-weapon technique that I myself use will need extra lessons. It is rather a difficult technique to master and requires a lot of training and hard work. However, those interested in a single weapon my also use a shield unless that weapon is two-handed.

All students will be required to learn to use a short sword and longbow, but the choice of which weapon is actually used is completely up to you." Harry glanced around the room, noticing that nearly everyone else had already latched their eyes onto the weapon they would like choose. Looking at Riff sitting beside him, he noted that the other boy had not decided yet either. There were just so many things to choose from. Harry then turned to the door with the rest of the class as it opened once again, this time to admit Draco Malfoy. From all appearances, Draco was fine. All of his teeth were intact and his nose wasn't broken any more. Behold the magic oh healing, Harry thought with a wry smirk.

Drizzt's icy gaze snapped onto Draco, his lavender orbs like two missiles seeking their target. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Drizzt said, this time without a smile, "so nice of you to decide to join us. Please, have a seat. And you can come see me again tonight after supper and sit in the same seat."

"What?" Draco spat indignantly. "You can't give me a detention. I've done nothing wrong."

"You were late." Drizzt stared at him placidly as Draco's mouth worked silently in rage. Harry felt his brows draw together in consternation. Why was Drizzt being so hard on Draco? Sure, he deserved it—the little prick—but Riff had been late as well.

"But I was in the hospital wing because of that mudblood!" Draco was practically screaming as he pointed an accusing finger at Riff. Harry felt Riff begin to shake beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I did not ask for your excuses. You were late to my class and I've just finished telling the class the rules that are to be followed—the first of which is to never be late. Since I don't quite feel like repeating myself at this time, you will see me after dinner to learn them, and with any luck, a bit of humility as well. Is that understood?" Draco merely glared hatred at Drizzt boldly—or perhaps stupidly, Harry thought—daring to meet Drizzt's gaze.

"Good," Drizzt said, returning Draco's glare with a serene calmness, "now take you seat and do not be late to my class again." Draco stood there still glaring at him, not moving, his blue eyes locked onto Drizzt's own purple orbs. "Well, would you like another detention?" Slowly, Draco broke away from what seemed to be a staring contest and made his way over to take the empty cushion between Crabbe and Goyle.

Drizzt stood where he was for a few moments, looking at the students around him before, "Any more interruptions?" We may as well get them out of the way now, because the real lessons are to begin in a while." When no one said anything he took one last glance around the room and turned and started for the door at the other end of the room, talking as he went. "Last rule: never, under any circumstances go into my personal chambers." He pointed to the door without slowing. "Choose your weapons now. This is one of the few times you will be allowed to speak freely. You have an hour to choose your weapon. Should you require my assistance, I'll be in my chambers. Knock on the door." With that he reached the door, pulled it open, and then disappeared through it, pulling it shut behind him.

Everyone sat stock-still for several seconds, hardly daring to believe that Drizzt had left them to their own devices. No professor had ever done that without a damn good reason. After about a minute had passed, Riff rose to his feet next to Harry and rubbed his hands together, his eyes locked on two swords hanging directly above Draco's head on the wall. Instantly chatter broke all throughout the room as the other students began to rise and move about. Riff started across the room toward the weapons he had chosen, but Draco—being closer and noting Riff's attention to the blades—got there first.

Harry noticed the gleam in Draco's eyes and the malicious smile that he sported as he stood and grabbed the swords before Riff could get to them. Harry then sighed as he noticed that familiar set to Draco's face. There was going to be a confrontation and it would most likely end up with Draco and Riff fighting again.

"Hey, you little punk," Riff growled, "those are mine." Draco looked at the swords with a confused expression, his eyes seeming to search for something.

"There swords are yours, you say?" Again, his eyes swept the blades. "That's interesting, because I don't see your name on them." Draco smiled as innocently as he possibly could as Riff began to become angry.

"You know damn good and well that I was headed for those swords."

"Oh? Well, I'm sorry. I guess it's true what they say about finders, keepers. But, I guess if you want them that bad..." Draco smiled again and Harry could already guess his next words.

"What?" Riff asked, apparently not catching on yet. He lifted a hand to brush his brown hair out of his eyes.

"Why not fight me for them?" Draco taunted. "We could use on apiece and the first to be disarmed loses." Suddenly it seemed as if the entire room was watching Draco and Riff, because they were. All over the room, students who were standing and sitting and holding weapons they'd been examining stopped and turned to see the confrontation, obviously expecting a continuation of this morning's breakfast. Hermione was the only person moving as she rushed up to Riff urgently.

"Don't do it," she said frantically. Her bushy, brown hair seemed even more poofy to Harry than usual. "He's had a lot of training and you've already gotten into one fight today. You'll get either more detention or you'll be expelled if you fight him now." Draco's smile was replaced by a grimace as Hermione spoke.

"Shut your filthy mouth, mudblood!" Draco nearly spat at Hermione. "He doesn't need your help to make his decisions!"

"You can't talk to Hermione like that, you weasel!" Ron shouted in rage at Draco. Draco sneered at Ron spitefully.

"You call me a weasel? You're the weasel. Why it's even in your name, 'Weasel-y!'" Snickers and outright laughter erupted from the students nearest Draco, all Slytherins, of course.

"You little prat!" Ron yelled back. Harry could see his ears turning scarlet like they usually did when Ron was angry. He quickly moved up behind Ron and grabbed him, curving his own arms under Ron's and up over Ron's shoulders to restrain him.

"Ron, calm down," Harry whispered to Ron. "He's not worth it." Ron struggled against Harry, nearly breaking free once. He tried uselessly to get his arms back to hit Harry, but failed each time. Harry dodged the attempted blows the best he could and was about to just let Ron go when Riff threw up an arm. Instantly all chatter and excitement died down and a few moments later Ron stopped struggling, allowing Harry to relax and release him.

"Ron," Riff said, "that's your name, right? Well then, Ron, stay out of this." Riff looked Hermione up and down and then pushed he out of the way. "You stay out of it too." With Hermione out of the way, Riff had a clear line of sight to Draco, who was standing in the same spot, holding the swords and wearing that characteristic smirk of his that made it seem like he thought himself superior to everyone else—which, in fact, he did. Riff held his hand out toward Draco and spoke a single word that made Draco's smile widen visibly.

"Sword," Riff said simply. Draco brought his arm back and tossed the sword in his left hand to Riff, who caught I in his out-stretched hand. Riff ran his hand down the blade and Harry could see some sort of runic markings on it, but he couldn't tell what t meant. Riff ran his hand down the blade again, this time to the hilt. Harry noticed that the hilt was shaped like a red dragon. In place of eyes were green emeralds and at the end of the dragon's tail—twined around the hilt—was a rather large diamond.

Riff snapped the sword up in front of him and took a wide stance, with his feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Draco chuckled slightly and shook his head in what seemed to be disappointment as his eyes lowered to the floor.

"Look, he takes the stance of an amateur," Crabbe said from behind Draco. Whether Riff even heard the comment or not, Harry couldn't tell as he stood where he was, unmoving with his eyes locked onto Draco. Finally, Draco's misplaced mirth broke and he took a smaller stance as Riff began to advance when he saw that Draco was finally ready to begin combat.

Riff bore down on Draco hard, closing the distance quickly in an attempt to catch him off-guard. At first Harry thought that Riff stood a pretty good chance of hitting Draco, but soon enough it became apparent even to him, one who had never been trained to fight, that Riff's momentum was too great for him to be able to attack Draco should the boy move aside. Apparently Draco observed this as well and sidestepped at the last moment to let Riff's speed carry him past the blonde-haired boy. Those Slytherins still gathered behind scattered as Riff barreled toward them. As Draco raised his sword to strike at Riff it seemed as if the battle was already finished, but remarkably Riff stopped, then turned and brought his own sword up just in time to stop the overhead cleave from Draco. The utter astonishment that replaced the smirk on Draco's face brought a smile to Riff's face. Harry then realized what Riff had done. He had known all along what he was doing, but he had gained the upped-hand in this duel by pretending that he had no clue how to use a sword. Harry smiled lightly at the look on Draco's face. Up until now there had been no one brave, or stupid if one looked at it that way, enough to challenge Draco Malfoy. Now, he was losing at the one thing that he bragged about and could actually back with skill and talent.

A cheer rose from the Gryffindors at Riff's blocking Draco's sword, but was followed immediately by a groan as Draco's knee came up to catch Riff in the stomach. Riff doubled over and again it seemed as if the duel would end. Yet, again Riff miraculously got his defense back up to catch Draco's attack. That's how the battle went for the next fifteen minutes. Draco would cheapshot Riff and Riff would somehow manage to block the next attempted blow.

Before long, Harry could see that this was taking a toll on both of the combatants as sweat rolled off of their faces to splash onto the floor. He could tell that the battle was going to end soon, one way or another because both of the boys were making more and more mistakes. Suddenly, Riff turned toward the wall, leaving a huge, gaping hold for Draco to attack. Draco saw that hold and capitalized on it, striking Riff hard in the side with the flat of his blade. Riff had been reaching for a shield, but when the lade struck, he grabbed his side and, already weakened from the exertion of battle, fell tot he floor and dropped his sword which clattered on the floor noisily.

A groan escaped the mouths and throats of the Gryffindors and everyone went back to the choosing weapons as the conflict was over. However, Draco wasn't finished just yet. Raising the sword over his head, he snarled at Riff. Harry was the only one still paying attention and his breath caught in his throat. Draco had been mad he know that, but was he stupid enough to kill Riff? Time seemed to slow nearly to a stop as Draco's sword began its long descent toward Riff's exposed back. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. By now, several others were paying attention again and by all appearances, Riff was as good as dead. But as they say, looks can be deceiving.

Without a breath of warning a dagger whipped through the air and nailed Draco in the hand, hilt first. Draco, stunned and hurt, recoiled his hand from the hilt of his sword, letting it fall harmlessly beside its twin on the cold, granite floor. Only then did anyone notice Drizzt as he strolled into the center of the room. Instantly every person in the room backed against the wall and stood stock-still so as not to seem a part of the scuffle that had just taken place. Drizzt's eyes scanned the room quickly before coming to rest on the two combatants. He stooped and quickly retrieved his dagger.

"I don't remember giving anyone permission to practice their combat skills," Drizzt remarked coolly. In response, Draco snarled and screamed at him.

"You tried dot kill me!" He searched frantically for support from his housemates, but after having seen Draco hit with the dagger, no one was eager to speak up. "Did you see the way he tried to kill me?" Again, the Slytherins remained silent.

"Trust me," Drizzt replied, "if I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Harry had never seen Drizzt fight and had no idea whether the dagger had hit where intended or not, but he knew that he believed that statement whole-hearted. Riff stirred and groaned on the floor as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, still holding his side.

"Shit," he said softly when he noticed that Drizzt was in the room.

"Shit indeed, Mr. Strite," Drizzt said, "that seems to be some hit you took. Care to tell me how this started?"

"It wasn't his fault, professor," Hermione spoke up from beside Harry. "He was provoked by Draco."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Do not speak unless spoken to." Harry had a strong feeling that Drizzt was extremely piss, but was not letting it become evident. "Now, Mr. Strite, how did this happen?" Riff groaned again and straightened. He must have been hit harder than Harry had thought if it was still causing him this much pain.

"After you went back there," Riff pointed to Drizzt's chambers, "I was going to choose those swords there on the floor. Both of them, that is. When this asshole noticed that I was gong to get them, he grabbed them first. Then I confronted him and he suggested that we fight using the swords, winner take all." Drizzt nodded, apparently turning the news over in his mind.

"It seems you lost, Mr. Strite," Drizzt said simply. "Any idea why?"

"I turned to grab a shield from the wall and Draco hit me as hard as he could in the side."

"So you've learned two lessons today," Drizzt told Riff in a semi-stern voice. "The first lesson," now he was speaking to the class as a whole, "is that you should never go into battle with rage. Anger clouds your judgment and dulls your senses. The second is that you should never let your guard down in battle. To do so is fatal." Drizzt spun and pointed at Neville Longbottom, who turned quite pale and shrunk back against the wall.

"You, boy," Drizzt said, his purple orbs locking onto Neville, "come on now, you're in no trouble. What's your name?"

"N-N-Neville Longbottom, s-s-sir..." Neville managed to squeak out though his chattering teeth.

"All right, Neville, was this a fair fight?" Drizzt asked him the question in a manner that said he already knew the answer. Neville merely nodded and Drizzt turned back to Riff and Draco, the latter still glaring hotly at the black elf. "It would seem, Mr. Strite, that you lost in a fair fight. Therefore, not only to keep in the fairness, but also as a lesson to help you remember your defeat next time, the swords will go to Draco as his prize." Riff's eyes fell to the floor in disappointment. "That was the agreement, was it not?" Drizzt asked. Riff nodded without looking up from the floor. Then, as if nothing had happened, Draco stooped to retrieve the swords and Drizzt turned to seat himself at his desk, saying, "You have a half hour left to choose your weapons."

The rest of the class went fairly smoothly with only a few arguments over weapons, but all were resolved quickly in light of the earlier occurrence. Harry chose a single sword and shield, Hermione chose two of what Harry thought were one-handed pitchforks, and Ron chose a halberd. It took Riff the whole half-hour to decide on a simple rapier and dagger. It really surprised Harry that only a handful of students—enough to count on two hands—had chosen two weapons. He'd heard several of the others saying that they wanted to use two weapons, but it seemed that the prospect of having extra lessons with the dreaded dark elf was more than most of them were willing to handle. After all of the weapons had been chosen, Drizzt gave them the rules for the weapons. They were like magic, only to be used with permission. Students were not to ever be more than five feet from their weapons, Drizzt had told them. He had assured them that all of their other professors had been told to take points from the house of a student who violated the rule. Harry thought that there were rather too many rules, but if Drizzt thought they were necessary then there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

When weapons-choosing and rules-giving was over with, the students were instructed to put away their newly acquired weapons. They were then given wooden short swords and the rest of the class was spent with Drizzt taking them through a series of offensive drills, and basic stances. Harry was quite enjoying himself despite the quickness with which Drizzt sped through the drills. The class spent maybe ten minutes on each and went on to the next.

"All right, Drizzt finally said about ten minutes before the class ended, "take the swords with you when you leave and practice in your free time. Those seven of you that chose two weapons need to see me after dinner to discuss schedules for your extra lessons. Mr. Strite and Mr. Malfoy, do try and be punctual, hmm?" Drizzt then turned and walked back into his private chambers, closing the door softly behind him.

Harry had not thought that a room could clear as fast as this one did. Within a few minutes he, Ron, Hermione, and Riff were the only people left in the Room of Requirement. They stood looking at one another for a few moments, the three friends regarding Riff silently and he doing the same with the three friends. Several moments passed that way before Harry finally extended his hand to the other boy.

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter." He motioned to the other two. "These are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." Riff's eyes went to Harry's forehead quickly and then back to Harry's out-stretched hand. He shook it heartily and Harry could feel the other boy's strength.

"Harry Potter, huh?" he mused. "The Harry Potter?" Harry nodded reluctantly, dreading having another fan. "Well that's cool. I'm Riff Strite. Strangest name you'll ever hear, I'm sure, but then I'm not exactly normal myself." He shook the hands of Ron and Hermione quickly and then stooped to gather his things.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Riff," Ron said rather brightly. It surprised Harry that he was in a good mood after having to be taught by Drizzt.

"Well, thanks," Riff smiled and turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to the trio. Would you guys mind walking to Care of Magical Creatures with me? I don't know where it is."

"Oh, of course," Harry said, starting toward him. "This means you'll get to meet Hagrid. He teaches that course and he's a good friend of ours." Riff nodded as he exited the room, the other three right behind him. As the four students walked the seven floors down to the entry hall, Ron began to explain to Riff some things about Hogwarts.

"The first thing you have to know," Ron was telling Riff, "is that Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Second, you have to know that Gryffindor is undisputedly the best house. Also, like any other school, there are people you have to watch out for. The worst here would have to be Snape." Ron looked to Riff to see if he'd had a run-in with the potions master yet.

"Yeah, no kidding," Harry said spitefully.

"Snape, who's that? What did he do to Harry?" Harry just stared straight ahead as Riff turned to him for an explanation. He had no intention of ruining a perfectly good morning by talking about the second person on his most-hated list.

"He's the potions professor," Hermione said. "He and Harry are practically sworn enemies. Something that Snape has held onto from his days as a student here. He and Harry's dad were rivals or something." Hermione's mention of James Potter saddened Harry slightly, while making him feel better at the same time.

"Yeah," Ron said darkly, "and of course you've met Draco Malfoy. He's the biggest prat you'll ever meet, guaranteed."

"Probably the dumbest one too," Harry chimed in. "Our third year here, he got scratched on the arm by a hippogriff during Care of Magical Creatures. He went around for the rest of the week talking about how he nearly lost his arm." Riff chuckled slightly and Ron laughed outright.

"Stupidity seems to come pretty standard for his kind," Hermione said with a grin. They reached the entry hall about that time and Harry noticed that it was empty.

"Crap, we're going to be late," he moaned. "Come on, let's go." The group of friends ran out the front door of the castle, not stopping to look around. Had they done so, they would have noticed a pair of yellow eyes staring at them from the shadows.