Chapter Three

Defence Against the Dark Arts

The next day they ate breakfast in the Great Hall (porridge, toast, eggs, sausages and pumpkin juice), and Harry wasn't surprised when the messenger owls flew in and Hedwig wasn't among them. He had no-one to write to him (he still tried not to think of Sirius, it left a cold, empty void in the pit of his stomach) unless there was urgent news from no. twelve, Grimmauld Place- the headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix- and even if there was, he knew Dumbledore would tell him. Ron's owl, Errol, flopped down onto the table and Ron sighed as he untied the letter from his owl's leg.

"It's from mum," he said before he had even opened it. "I mean really, I've been gone two days, you'd think she could lay off about the broomstick."

"What about it?" Harry asked through a mouthful of sausages.

"She still thinks it might go berserk and throw me off. She didn't trust dad's counter-spell. She told me not to play quidditch until I'd had it checked out by one of the teachers."

Hermione had her face buried in the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, and wasn't listening to them.

Ron had unfolded his letter and glanced through it. He dropped it onto the table and shrugged. "Thought so."

Harry looked at Hermione over the top of the newspaper. "Anything interesting in there?" He asked.

She glanced up and sighed. "The usual nonsense. Nothing really interesting." She briskly folded the paper and returned to her eggs.

They finished their breakfast, and then headed off for class. The first lesson was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, followed by Divination and then Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. Harry noticed the new student, Lily Flanagan, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the class during Divination. Professor Trelawney made a great display of 'reading her aura' and announced to the class that she had 'exeptional psychic ability'. Meanwhile, Lily sank back into her seat, looking uncomfortable, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

The day wore on. They went and ate lunch in the Great Hall, and then trudged up the stairs to Defence Against the Dark Arts. When they arrived the classroom was empty except for other students, who were shuffling into rows behind the desks set up around the room.

Harry slid in beside Ron, with Hermione on Ron's other side. They unloaded their books and looked around expectantly.

The door swung open and a tall, dark figure swept into the room, his coat swishing out behind him. Hermione tried to cough gracefully as wave of dusty-smelling air wafted past her, and succeeded in turning bright red and nearly choking herself.

Professor Finchley strode to the front of the class in what seemed like three huge steps, then dumped a large package he had been carrying under his arm onto the desk. Puffs of dust rose from it. It looked to Harry like a large leather book with a handle on the side. Finchley opened it and drew out a smaller book, A Guide to Demonology, copies of which each student had among their other materials for this class.

Finchley dropped the book on the top of the large suitcase/book with handles, raising yet more dust from its leather cover, and surveyed the class with glittering grey eyes.

"Take out this book," he said, tilting the cover up so they could read it upside-down. His voice was quiet and very hoarse. "Turn to page 89. Read the chapter on Vampires."

He then threw the hem of his cloak back and sat down at the desk, laced his hands together and surveyed the class through his greasy black fringe.

"It's going to be another long year," Ron said under his breath, and Harry grinned as he took out the book and flipped through it. Two rows in front of him, Lily Flanagan was also flicking through her book. He stared at the back of her head, admiring the way her hair fell down to her shoulders in gentle waves.

Harry looked back down at his book and began to read.

"Which one of you is Harry Potter?" Finchley said suddenly.

Harry's stomach dropped, and he felt instantly guilty, for no apparent reason. He hadn't done anything wrong yet, surely. He raised his hand to chin-height, and then dropped it quickly. Finchley was staring at him with intense curiosity. His heart sank.

"Ah," Finchley said shortly, a small smile curving his thin lips. "Nice to know I'm in such esteemed company." He gave a brief nod. "Good to meet you, Harry."

Harry stared back, at a loss for words, and aware that he looked quite foolish with his mouth hanging slightly open, but unable to help it. He had never been introduced like that to a teacher before. He thought Ron he might have to rethink his opinion of Professor Finchley.

Everyone was staring at either Harry or Finchley. "Carry on," Finchley rasped, and they did. Harry looked down at his book, his face feeling hot. Hermione seemed secretly pleased with herself.