Disclaimer: It's getting hard to think of something new to write here – and anyway, you all know it, I know it, J.K. Rowling knows it, all the publishers know it – so what's the point of repeating this once again?

Author note: Thanks for the reviews. Have fun:)

Author note 2:Another one edited! Ah! I'm so glad:) Anyway, I can only do one thing: thank Aln-Mai, my wonderful beta-reader:)

Chapter 8

Madam Pomfrey fixed Harry in no time. She praised him for not even flinching when she poured some disgusting potion down his throat and painfully removed the effects of all the different curses James had used. But Harry didn't really feel he deserved the compliment.

He had acted like a total jerk! Idiot! Imbecile! Coward—yeah, he was pretty sure that after the duel, everybody apart from Ron and Hermione would think he was a coward. Well, he knew that it wasn't true, but still—the bitter feeling of failure prevented him from falling asleep in the warm hospital bed.

Why couldn't he get a grip of himself? Of course, it wasn't that he should have actually fought his father, but there were so many harmless ways of dealing with the situation. A simple Expelliarmus would have been sufficient.

God, he had managed to stand up to Lord Voldemort himself and all of sudden he was incapable of finding the way to win against sixteen-year-old James Potter!

He closed his eyes and shifted in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. But it didn't help; his mind was still circling around the duel. Back then, he had been absolutely petrified by the hate he saw in his father's eyes, he was unable to think coherently. Now however, he saw with the terrifying clarity all the consequences of his actions, or rather the lack of them.

It was obvious that the teacher, Professor Lindberg, was very unlikely to accept him into the class after that. This wasn't a real problem, though. He could ask Dumbledore for help, and once the old wizard understood the situation, he certainly would talk with Lindberg and convince him to give Harry another chance.

The thing that Harry was really worried about was of a totally different nature. Until now, he had hoped that he would be able to sort things out with James and Sirius and maybe—just maybe—get to know their good sides. He was not really sure what was he expecting to happen, but he knew that he had been given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get to know his parents, and now, that chance was surely gone. His father would never accept him now, same as Sirius...

And Lily? Well, she certainly wasn't going to reject him—after all, she was the one who took care of him right after the duel, but he wasn't so sure what her reasons were. What if she did it because she was annoyed and wanted to wind James up? Or if she thought it was her duty as a prefect?

And even if that wasn't the case, now she certainly would think that Harry was some weak, delicate wimp, unable to take care of himself—that definitely was not what Harry wanted.


Hermione had the rest of the lesson to think about everything that had happened. She give her own duel a second thought. She was too worried about Harry. She knew that he would be very ashamed of himself and regarding the state of mind he had been in for the past few months, this was not good. She could only hope he would be able to look at things reasonably.

Entirely another problem was dealing with Professor Lindberg. She decided to talk to him after the lesson. She had to convince him to give Harry a chance. Maybe another duel, with someone else? Or some sort of test?

She waited anxiously for the lesson to finish and walked directly to the teacher's desk.

"Professor Lindberg...." she began, but the man interrupted her rudely.

"I know what you are about to say, Miss Bradley, but I am not going to change my mind. Letting your brother take part in an advanced course like this would put him in danger. I'm sorry." He turned away from her and resumed vanishing all the peculiar objects from his desk. But Hermione was not going to give up this easily. A plan started to form in her head.

"That's not what I was going to ask about, Professor," she said smoothly. "Harry will surely prefer to talk to you himself." She was perfectly polite. The man looked at her, bewildered.

"No? Well, what is it, then?"

"I was wondering—you see—I had some problems with one spell, which Harry showed me—we decided that maybe the problem was that he didn't know how to teach me the spell—explain all the details, which he did without thinking—I was wondering if you could help me, Professor..." She looked at the teacher, hoping that her strategy would work. Indeed, he seemed quite interested.

"And what is the spell, Miss Bradley?"

"Oh—the Patronus charm, Professor," she said, trying to sound innocent. Her plan was very simple. She wanted the man to believe that Harry had mastered the charm without any effort. That might make him reconsider allowing Harry into the class—after all, this was a truly advanced piece of magic.

The man blinked few times in astonishment.

"Are you sure you aren't confusing the name, Miss Bradley?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I mean the charm to fight away dementors, Professor."

"Ah, yes. It's the right charm, then."

"I can't make my Patronus corporeal. I don't know why—all I can do is this silvery mist—would you help me?"

Hermione watched the man with amusement. He actually was embarrassed. Why would he be? Did he...?

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Miss Bradley. The charm you are talking about exceeds the normal defense course and I have no time to teach everybody the things they want to learn individually..." He didn't meet her gaze, and she was sure that he was lying. He simply couldn't produce the Patronushimself! That was amusing!

But, on second thought, that might turn disastrous. If he was an envious sort of person, her plan was bound to backfire—he would be even more unwilling to accept Harry after he knew that he could do a spell which was too complicated for him.

She only hoped it wasn't the case.


Professor Lindberg was sitting in his office that Friday evening, waiting for Harry Bradley to come. After the conversation he had with his sister earlier, he was sure that the boy would come as soon as he was dismissed from the hospital wing.

He didn't really know how to deal with this particular student. On one hand, his duel had been terrible, pathetic, and simply insufficient for the N.E.W.T. course. But then, if the boy really could produce a Patronus—it was the charm which, a long time ago, had almost caused his expulsion from the Auror Academy. Maybe the boy didn't have the guts to become a warrior or Auror, but if he could perform the Patronus Charm, he must have some talent. No matter how much he—as a teacher—would prefer not to have the boy in his class, he should give him a chance, shouldn't he? Then again, although he didn't fight during his duel, he didn't run, he didn't hide, he didn't even cry from the pain, which some of the curses he had received had surely caused. In some ways, it was impressive.

A knock on the door stopped his train of thought.

"Come in!" he shouted, looking at Bradley as he entered the room and closed the door after himself quietly. The boy didn't really look scared—in fact, he didn't even appear nervous. But he was not going to make it easy for Harry.

"What would you like to tell me, Mr. Bradley?"

"Professor, I wanted to ask if you could let me stay in the N.E.W.T.-level class," the boy answered, not lowering his gaze.

"Why should I do it?" he demanded, wondering what answer the boy would come up with.

"Well—the duel I had with James Potter—there was an important reason, a personal reason, why I didn't fight back. I can't tell you what it is exactly—but if you need someone to confirm my words, sir, you can ask Professor Dumbledore. He knows the reason—I am ready to prove that I am good enough to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I really am. I know it's going to sound stupid and you probably won't believe me, but I taught Hermione and Ron half of what they know, and you've seen them, sir..." He looked at him with some hope in his eyes.

"You ask me to test your courage and practical knowledge once again? Even though you already have failed once? Normally, I wouldn't agree. But in your case—your sister said something which led me to the belief that you are actually quite capable. She said that you could do a very advanced spell—the Patronus Charm."

The boy didn't even bother to answer, he simply took out his wand and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" A silver stag erupted from the tip of the wand and galloped around the room a few times before dissolving into mist and evaporating.

Professor Lindberg stared at the boy with a contemplative look for a while. Finally he spoke.

"I have to admit I am impressed. But this is still not enough. In fact, I should ask you to do the thing that was too difficult for you previously—but if you say there was an important reason—I shall talk to Professor Dumbledore about it. Now, the question is, how should I test you, if not by the duel?"

Harry blinked few times. This wasn't a rhetorical question; the teacher really wanted him to reply. What was he supposed to suggest?

"I don't know, sir. But—dueling isn't a problem. It's only when I have to face some particular people—apart from James Potter, Lily Evans and Sirius Black, I could duel with anyone."

Olaf Lindberg was confused by the answer. He could understand the general problem with dueling. He had met a few people in his life who simply couldn't stand to hurt anyone, or something like that. He had assumed that this was the case with the boy. But now—why would he have something against facing those particular teenagers, if he had only known them for a week? Maybe he simply chose those which were the best in the subject, because he was afraid of losing?

His face didn't show any of his bewilderment though. Instead, he smirked at the boy's impertinence.

"You can fight with anyone? That's fine. You are going to fight me, then." He expected the boy to be at least disappointed, if not frightened by the prospect, but his assumptions were wrong. The boy breathed deeply and smiled, obviously relived.

"Thank you, sir. Now?"

"No. Tomorrow, after breakfast. It's late and you already have been in the hospital wing once today."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good night, sir." With that, he turned on his feet and left, whistling merrily.

Lindberg only muttered "good night" to the closed doors.


Lily and Alice were astonished when they heard all the details about the meeting with Lindberg. It wasn't merely the nature of the demand of the teacher, but more the fact that Harry seemed so unperturbed.

Harry went up to his dorm early that evening. He didn't want to discuss anything with the others and really wanted to avoid his father and the rest of the Marauders tonight. He saw the four boys during dinner, but avoided them and sat in the other end of the table. He felt miserable enough without listening to some cruel remarks.

Ron followed Harry up the stairs as well, and so the girls were left alone in the common room. They talked about Harry, obviously.

Lily couldn't understand why Harry would, at first, act the way he did during the duel with James and then accept a much more challenging duel with the teacher. Deep inside, she was scared that he had done it because he wanted to impress her, and she didn't want him to be in danger for such a stupid reason. Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders at that and said that she was sure that his main reason was staying in the DADA class.

"I'd rather worry about how Harry will cope with all the teasing that he'll get from James and Sirius..." she said sadly.

"Oh, I told him plenty of times that he shouldn't worry about what do those jerks think about him. They are ruthless and stupid, never able to see further than their own noses." Lily was on her favorite topic. Whenever it came to this troublesome four, she could speak for half an hour without a pause. She was quite creative when it came to insults for Potter, Black, Lupin or Pettigrew. And this time, it seemed that it was even worse.

She had her back turned to the portrait hole, so she didn't notice when it opened and the four boys entered the common room. They were not talking, and when they saw the girls sitting by the fire, they stopped on their way up to the dorm.

James moved away from the group and took few uncertain steps in the direction of the girls. Lily was still oblivious to his presence, continuing with her "I hate Potter" rambling.

"Lily... shhh!" Hermione said when she noticed the boy standing close behind them. She was not sure whether his cheeks were red from embarrassment and anger or from the heat coming from the fireplace.

Lily turned around and blinked a few times when she saw the unhappy boy. She didn't like him, but she had no intention of hurting him. And she could see that her words had touched him. She felt a pang of guilt and was about to apologize when he spoke first, his fists clenched.

"Nice to know that you think so well about me, Evans. But you know what? I'm tired of this. I'm just tired of you blaming me for everything. Perfect-Miss-Prefect with your sympathy for chickens—I'm just tired of this..." He was pale now and his voice trailed off as he slowly realized what he had just said.

Lily's eyes opened wide. James Potter had never insulted her before, no matter what she said or did. In some incomprehensible way it hurt her, although she couldn't understand why, and she never would admit it to herself. She opened and closed her mouth few times, before her temper got better of her.

"Yes? Perfect-Miss-Prefect? At least I don't go around and throw hexes at people for no reason. I don't go around as if the school belonged to me. I don't go around and hurt people just because I don't like them!"

"Oh no, Evans, you never do that..." he said, both sarcastically and sadly, and then turned on his feet and stormed away.

Lily gaped at his retreating back for a while and then looked at her friends uncertainly.

"I—I think I'll go to bed..." she mumbled, and headed upstairs. Alice and Hermione both followed her, and Alice put her arm around Lily's shoulders comfortingly.

It was probably the only Friday when almost all the Gryffindor sixth-years went to sleep so early.