Chapter 17: Professor Potter

Harry's stomach flip-flopped as he stood in front of the noisy crowd of students. Those who were not D.A. members were taking it in turns to stare around the large, luxurious room and stare at Harry, but he hardly noticed. His head was spinning at the ridiculousness of the situation. After all the stupid things he had done, he was supposed to be responsible for teaching his peers? His friends? The very absurdity of it made him want to laugh.

What was Dumbledore thinking? As the class began to settle down, Harry felt his temper do the opposite. The confusion of the evening's events left him with a horrible feeling of helplessness, and even worse, suspicion. Something about the headmaster's quiet smile and calm manner left Harry feeling slightly ill and quite annoyed. He knew the old wizard cared about him, so after the disturbing experience with occlumency, Dumbledore's placid, unworried cheerfulness could mean only one thing: What ever happened in that office, he had been expecting. Perhaps he had even planned it?

I sudden elbow to the ribs from Ron pulled Harry out of his thoughts, reminding him of his surroundings. He looked up to find all twenty-one students staring directly at him. He felt a moment of panic, before a thought struck him; if Dumbledore wanted him to teach what he knew, he would do just that. A determined spark found its way into Harry's green eyes, as he had a sudden realization: for once, he didn't feel so powerless. Now was his chance to be something more than a hapless pawn, and he was going to make the best of it.

"Hi," he started, glancing over the group appraisingly, "I'm Harry, or just Potter if you prefer. Welcome to Defense Training. I know we're all at some different levels, but that shouldn't matter so much, as we're all going to be starting small and working up; it's important to have a strong grasp of the basics if you're going to be teaching them. You all will be completely responsible for teaching defensive spells to the third through seventh years, and you'll also need to help the younger students review their lessons from class. So, tomorrow night we'll probably start with some pretty old stuff." Harry stopped briefly to gauge the reaction, and for once he was pleased to find all eyes focused on him. He continued speaking.

"Tonight, however, will be a theory lesson." Groans seeped out of the mouths of some and Harry saw that Draco Malfoy was looking almost amused. Harry raised an eyebrow. "This is not going to be some Umbridge-like excuse for a lesson. Professor Dumbledore asked me to teach from my experience," Harry paused for a quick smirk, "And that is what I plan on doing…sort of. For now, however, I'd like to hear from you."

He scanned the group quickly and saw that only a few people had brought their backpacks. He asked the nearest girl (who turned out to be Tamara Moon, the dark-haired girl from his regular Defense class) if she had a spare bit of parchment and a quill. She did, and he quickly got to work multiplying the items until there were enough to give to each of the students. With Hermione's help, he passed them around and then explained what he had in mind.

"I'd like you," he announced to the group, "To think about your own experiences and come up with at least one important thing you have learned about Defense. I'm guessing that once you get to thinking about it, you'll be able to think of more than one thing, so take a minute to write down the most important thing you've learned outside of regular lessons." He looked around, feeling rather professor-ish, as most of the students concentrated and some began to write.

"You don't need to sign your name," Harry added as an afterthought, "But you can include a bit about how you learned what you did, if you want." His gaze traveled over the group--over Hermione, who was scribbling feverishly, over Neville, who looked deadly serious, finally pausing at Malfoy. Draco's pale grey-blue eyes were looking directly at Harry's for a moment, but almost immediately they shifted away and Harry let his gaze move on as well.

Finally, it seemed everyone was done, and Hermione once again volunteered to help as Harry collected twenty-one folded bits of paper. The class watched as he spread the lot of them over a low table, privately congratulating himself on this stroke of brilliance. Then, he grabbed one at random, unfolded it, and read it.

The tidy scrawl was familiar but Harry was unable to place it in his mind at first.

Know who you can trust and who you can't. Never trust anyone completely.

The words were brief and to the point, and Harry felt like the breath had been knocked out of him; at first he was struck with a feeling of pity that someone should have such a bleak outlook, but the pity grew into a dull, but horrified, sense of recognition, and he realized that this was the root of the very argument that seemed to be constantly taking place in the back of his own mind. His unease only grew worse as he finally recognized the handwriting; this snobby, neat script was one that he'd seen before when working side by side in Potions with one Draco Malfoy.

Harry cleared his throat, turned to the class, and read the words aloud. The response was mixed; many students frowned and sported disturbed looks, but others (mainly from the Slytherin House) nodded slowly with agreement.

"Though it looks like some of you disagree, this is a vital lesson. I'd risk a bet that everyone in here, at some point, has made the mistake of trusting the wrong person. An error as simple as this could cost you your life…" Before he could finish his thought, Harry was interrupted by a grinning Hufflepuff.

"You're starting to sound like Old Mad-Eye Moody, Harry!" Ernie Macmillan snorted. Harry grinned back at him.

"Ernie?" he asked innocently, "When, exactly, did you meet Mad-Eye?"

Ernie answered with a confused look. "He was only our teacher for an entire year!"

"You've just proved the point, Ernie. Though we knew him as Professor Alastor Moody, he was actually an active Death-Eater with some…alterior motives." Most everyone, save Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, looked utterly shocked. Even Draco couldn't hide his surprise.

"But…" Susan Bones started, shaking her head, "But Professor Dumbledore said…he told us…" Harry sighed.

"That brings us to the second part of the lesson: Be careful how much you trust someone. I wouldn't, personally, go so far as to tell you to never trust anyone completely. There may be times when you must trust another person with your life, but not everyone is that person, and trusting someone with your life is not the same thing as letting someone control your actions.

"Are you suggesting that we aren't to trust Dumbledore?" A seventh-year Gryffindor said quietly.

"Of course not," Harry said as all eyes fell on him, "He's saved my life, and he'd never intentionally put any of his students in harm's way." He fought to keep a grimace off his face. "I am just suggesting that you place your primary trust in yourself, and don't expose yourself just because you've trusted someone else more than you should. Do you understand what I mean?"

Now there were more nods, and a Hufflepuff seventh-year began to speak softly.

"It's true," the girl said thoughtfully. "I have an example too."

Harry gestured for her to share it and she gave a small smile as she explained. Soon enough, others were sharing their own experiences, and before long it was time to dismiss class and nearly everyone had been able to come up with an example from their own life. They left the room in groups, still telling their various stories as they headed off to their common rooms.

After gathering up the remaining slips of parchment and stuffing them into his pocket, Harry left too. He, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione strolled along with the other Gryffindors, chattering as they made their way towards the painting of the Fat Lady, more than one person congratulating Harry on a good lesson. After they had all clabbered through, Harry and his friends collapsed at near the fireplace, except for Hermione, who had nipped upstairs to grab a book.

Ron challenged Ginny to a quick game of chess, and she accepted without hesitation. Harry was quite happy to watch; he never won against Ron, but Ginny usually made a very interesting showing against her brother. (Though she was hardly likely to beat Ron, she always gave him a challenge, most likely due to her special skill at breaking his concentration.) Soon, however, Harry found his eye-lids were annoyingly heavy. He wondered vaguely why he felt so exhaustedas he changed positions and tried to keep his head up.

"Harry," Ginny said, looking away from the board for a moment, "Why don't you go up to bed? You look pretty beat."

"Yeah. Maybe I will…" He leaned his head back, gathering his strength for the trip upstairs.

"Harry! Hey, Harry! Wake up, mate!" Harry opened his eyes to see Ron's face in front of him. "Am I going to have to carry you up?"

Ginny snickered from behind Ron. "I told you you should have gone up an hour ago," She pointed out. She was packing away her chess pieces, and Harry rubbed his eyes and managed to stand.

"An hour?"

"At least! We played two games. Now come on! I want to get in bed, but I wanna make sure you get all the way there first." Ron looked concerned, clearly still worried from the happenings in Dumbledore's office.

Harry could only nod wearily and wave goodnight to Ginny as she turned to go to her own dormitories. A few minutes later, he dropped thankfully onto his pillows.

"'Night, Harry!" Ron yawned.

"'Night," Harry mumbled.

"Goodnight," called another voice.

Harry was too tired think who had spoken, but he replied just the same. As he drifted into a deep slumber, he didn't notice the strange look he received from Ron, the only other person in the room.

Harry woke early the next day, and felt surprisingly chipper as he tugged a bleary-eyed Ron down to breakfast. Upon reaching the Gryffindor table, they found Hermione deep in conversation with Tonya Turly. Ginny could be seen only slightly further down, suspiciously close to Leah, who once again held her notebook and quill at ready. Ron spotted this, and groaned loudly, but Hermione turned to give him a piercing glare.

Thankfully, Leah never made her way over to the group, and breakfast passed pleasantly. Ron was once more ranting about psychology and Muggle Studies in general, and Harry was having a good time answering a continuous barrage of muggle-related questions. Then Ron waved a cheery goodbye as they parted ways and Harry and Hermione dragged themselves down to another scintillating Potions lesson. However, that turned out to be all right too. True, Snape spent the entire double lesson watching Harry with a calculating expression, but Harry ignored him, and found it rather easy to complete his potion without error.

However, he and Hermione were not at all interested in staying longer than necessary, and so they hurried out as soon as both had turned in a vial of clear amber Chilling Solution. They were some of the first students to finish, and so they arrived in the Charms classroom several minutes ahead of anyone else, including Ron. Both took the opportunity to relax for a bit, as they slid into some empty seats.

Harry closed his eyes as he listened to the strangely comforting sound of Hermione turning the pages of a book. He relaxed, glad to be back to the soothing familiarity of Hogwarts life, and tried not to think about the countless worries that were plaguing him. He tried to think of other things. Maybe he'd find some time to get out on his broom before dinner? Just a zip around the pitch a few times might be nice. Practices wouldn't be starting up for another—

"Let me out! Pleasssse!"

Harry's eyes shot open as he heard a suspicious voice, but he didn't dare move. His heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute, but he ignored it and focused instead on listening. Nothing. Then he felt it: a gentle tug at his robes. Harry looked down, and was shocked to see a pair of shiny eyes (attached to a small, silvery head) staring out of the pocket of his robes. With a deep sigh of relief, he reached into the pocket and pulled out the little creature.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked quietly, stroking it slowly. He hadn't necessarily been expecting an answer, but the snake gave a faint hiss and was about to answer before Hermione spoke.

"What are you whispering about over—oh!" she had pulled her nose out of her book and noticed the reptile. "Harry, I don't know if you should bring the snake to classes. You'd better put it away before the professor gets here. I don't think they're allowed." Harry would have been a bit annoyed, but Hermione seemed genuinely concerned.

"I can't just keep him in my pocket all day! He wanted out."

"Well, why'd you bring it anyway?" She set her book down and moved to get a closer look at the shining creature.

"I didn't bring him. He was in my robes."

"He?" she looked back to Harry with eager curiosity. "Do snakes have male and female voices?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose so. I don't have all that much experience."

"Hmm," Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Harry eyed the snake while he waited for his friend to say something, but before that happened, Ron slid gracelessly into the seat next to him.

"Hey guys! Why the snake, Harry?" Harry groaned, but Hermione finally spoke up.

"He—the snake—wanted out of Harry's pocket, which he must've snuck into earlier," she supplied.

"Right," Ron said, as if this was quite obvious, "But I mean, why'd you decide to keep it in the first place?"

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know. It just seemed…right. Plus," he pointed out, with a slightly evil smirk, "He'll probably do us a favor and eat any unwanted spiders."

Ron shuddered ever-so-slightly, and Hermione looked at Harry with interest.

"Ooh! Did he tell you he eats spiders?"

"No."

"Well….does he?" Harry was just in the midst of another shrug, but Hermione elbowed him painfully. "Quit shrugging at us and ask him!"

He wanted to argue against bothering the snake, who was now curled into an unmoving coil, but a second later it seemed to look up, and Harry decided he might as well humor his friends. Both watched with partly eager, partly apprehensive looks, as Harry spoke.

"Errr…?"

"Yesssss?"

"How...how are you? Alright?"

"Yesss…thanks." To his surprise, the snake slithered across the desk and onto Harry's hand, which was palm-down in front of him.

"Are you hungry? What do you eat?"

"Inssssectsss! But, I am not hungry." The animal was certainly straightforward.

"Right…well…let me know if you need anything."

"Cccccertainly."It curled comfortably between his fingers. Harry raised his eyebrows and looked up from the creature.

"So? What'd it say?" Ron asked at once. Harry heard talking and loud walking near the doorway.

"He eats insects," he offered, distractedly wondering if he should try to hide the little animal during the lesson, but not wanting to disturb him. Students began filing in, and he surreptitiously covered the snake with his free hand.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure," he answered. He was watching Professor Flitwick, who had just arrived.

"Will you teach me to speak Parseltongue?"

"What?" Ron and Harry both spoke at once, but Hermione didn't get a chance to answer, for Flitwick, once again, chose an excellent moment to start class.

"You are seriously not kidding about this?"

"No, Ron." The reply was curt. Hermione was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Ron as the trio hiked towards the quidditch pitch. The breeze was angrily tossing their robes about, and Hermione's hair flew violently out behind her. It seemed as if the wind could sense the brewing argument.

"You honestly think you're gonna learn Parseltongue? From Harry?"

"Yes."

"And here we all thought you were so bright…"

Ron's mumbling was just loud enough to be heard by a barely in-control Hermione. Harry kept his mouth shut. With any luck, this row would be over by the time they reached the pitch. He'd been overjoyed when Hermione had approved a quick fly, and didn't want to have the occasion ruined by another ridiculous argument. Any moment now, he'd be off of the ground. Already he could feel the wind tugging him forwards.

Unfortunately, the bickering did not seem to be reaching any sort of end. Evidently, Hermione had heard enough out of Ron and was ready to share some choice words of her own.

"You know what, Ron? Just because nobody ever managed to learn to speak with snakes before doesn't mean nobody can. We have a perfect opportunity here! When was the last time there was a Parselmouth worth learning from? Never. So, if you'd be so kind as to use your brain, you might realize what a bright idea it really is! And—"

Harry had had enough, and from the looks of it, so had Ron. "You know," he said loudly, cutting off Hermione and holding a hand up to stop Ron's retort, "You can both stop discussing it, as I haven't even decided whether I'll do it or not."

Both friends paused at the edge of the pitch and looked at him as if only just noticing he was there. Even the wind calmed down to a gentle breeze. Hermione looked strange, almost upset.

"You won't even try?" Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Even Ron gave him a baffled look. Or was it disappointment? Harry couldn't quite decide.

"Look," he said with a sigh, "It's not that I won't it's just….I have to think about it a bit. I mean, for one thing, I don't even know how to speak it. It just comes out, you know? So it can't be too easy to teach someone else. But mainly, it just feels…I don't know….weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. Or…wrong. Something. I just don't know."

"You—the kid who gave a boa constrictor directions to Brazil, or some such nonsense—you are trying to tell me you feel weird talking to snakes?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

Harry looked at them with narrowed eyes. "You two were the ones who said it was so dark and creepy. It's not my fault if I feel sort of…awkward doing it!"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, "You've already proved several times that it isn't a Dark Art. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed. I just don't often chat with snakes in front of an audience!" Ron snorted, but both continued to stare at him expectantly. Harry shook his head. "All right, I'll think about it, but no guarantees."

Hermione nodded happily and surprisingly, even Ron's worried frown disappeared. Harry smirked, wondering if Ron even remembered what side of the argument he'd been on.

"Oy! What are you laughing at?"

"You. You look so pleased," he explained as he mounted his broom. Ron stared at him for a moment and then turned to Hermione, who shrugged.

"Odd sense of humor, that one," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry grinned even wider before darting up into the air, leaving his two friends below.

Nearly two hours later, Harry and Ron decided to call it quits on flying for the evening and made their way in to dinner. Hermione had stayed for awhile, floating around cautiously on Ginny's broomstick, but soon enough she left, apparently eager to get to her Astronomy lesson early. As the boys made their way into the Great Hall, they weren't entirely surprised to find her hidden behind a large book.

They each took seats across from her and began filling their plates with baked potatoes, steak, and pudding. Harry squinted to read the title of Hermione's book, not paying attention as he piled butter and sour cream on his potatoe.

"I don't know how you eat so much, Harry, and never gain a pound!" Parvati exclaimed as she took a seat nearby. Lavender, who wasn't far behind, nodded vigorously. Harry looked up, disgruntled.

"What d'you mean? What about Ron?" He gestured to Ron, who was drowning his own plate in gravy.

"Well, with Ron, at least we can see where it all goes! I think he's grown since Charms."

"Wha'?" Ron finally looked up from his plate and joined the conversation. They all laughed, but a moment later, Harry stopped as Hermione poked her head out from behind the book and looked straight at him.

"She's right, you know?"

"Parvati?" Hermione nodded silently, looking at Harry thoughtfully.

"Here," she said, passing him the book, "Read this."

She pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of a page labeled "Energy and Restorative Draughts" and Harry began to read.

Replenishing Potion

The Replenishing Potion is one of the most obscure potions used in Healing to date. Developed hundreds of years ago, its origins are vague, but its uses are clear. In its early days, the potion was a sort of "cure-all" for a variety of maladies, including everything from the common cold to irreversible spell damage. However, over the years, its true benefits have become more defined. The potion acts by accentuating the magical levels in a witch or wizard's body. Though this is still of some use in treating several common conditions, more recent and specific treatments have been developed, eliminating the need for Replenishing Potion in these cases. In some, very uncommon cases, the potion has actually been used to (seemingly) restore a patient's magic completely. Fortunately, cases of full magic-loss are quite rare, and only documented in a few ancient texts. More commonly, a patient will suffer from partial magic-loss, due to over-exertion of magical energy, or specific "magic-draining spells" (which are difficult to perform and never fully-effective). Finally, there are various records which indicate that Replenishing Potion was once thought to be a likely cure for Squibism, however, this proved to be false, and many Squibs suffered due to the misconception. In one case, a Squib attempted to fly off the top of a house on a broomstick, and learned the hard way that the Replenishing Potion did not, in fact, bestow any magical abilities upon him.

Harry read the passage twice, each time shuddering at the though of a full magic-draining spell. What would happen if Voldemort found a way to completely weaken Harry's magic? He decided he didn't want to think about it anymore. He looked up to find Hermione still watching him, and Ron still engrossed in his dinner.

"So," he began hesitantly, "What does this have to do with me eating a lot?"

"I don't know yet," she answered simply. She seemed deep in thought as she continued to study him, but offered no more information. So, sighing, Harry gave up and decided to cut the meal short and prepare for tonight's practical defense lesson. He waved a quick goodbye to his friends, grabbed his broom, and hurried toward the Room of Requirement, wondering what the evening might have in store for him.

I'd just like to apologize for taking over a month to update! I really have no new excuses! I must thank all you reviewers for your input—it's really a great motivation for me. I hope you liked this chapter and I'll try to have another ready soon! Thanks for reading and please, please review!

--Sarah