X—Classroom Discussion

Tuesday came rather quickly, as did another and another. Professor Potter, as always, was prepared for his classes. All Weekend he had worked diligently to perfect his newest lesson. He was amazed with all of the new things he had learned since September; things that he had not ever thought he would ever know. He was surprised at his seventh years, the rate they held information was phenomenal; most of them competed with Hermione for the top space in the class. Harry felt proud that his students worked so hard to accomplish good grades and that they diligently attained new jinxes and advice that Harry taught them.

The sixth years were equally as assiduous in their studies but it was with the fifth years that Potter was most impressed. He pushed them harder than the rest because not only were they younger but their knowledge was not as advanced as the sixth and seventh years. He wanted them to be on the same level for their own safety. He was not willing to deny them their defense for the sake of class structure. For them, he created an advanced class of sorts. They always had extensive homework and were on a level almost comparable to the sixth years. Though they often complained, they managed to keep up and Potter beamed with pride.

"Alright class," announced Potter, "for tomorrow, I want you to have a foot long essay on how you would deal with giants. You have twenty minutes left in class so I suggest you start now."

The fifth years groaned, reluctantly removing parchment and quills from their bags. However, one student at the front of the class sat in expectation. This boy was darker than night, with protuberant eyes as clear as glass, his name was Pedro Zimbejuanez from Brazil, but because of his nearly unpronounceable surname, he preferred his teachers called him Pedro. This was not the first time he had sat with his small hands, neatly folded on his desk; Professor Potter knew his little game well. The game, if it had a title, would be called 'try to discredit your Defense against the Dark Arts professor to the point of embarrassment'. Potter pretended not to notice him at first but soon, with his never ceasing gaze, it was hard not to notice him.

"What is your curiosity dwelling on this time, Pedro?" Professor Potter sighed, looking up shortly from his sixth-year's essays. Some of the class began to snicker at his question. Pedro did not seem to notice the laughter.

"Professor," Pedro began, fluently in English with a thick Afro-Brazilian accent, "How would you fight off a giant?"

"Well, the point of writing the essay is to tell me how you would do it yourself. I've never had an encounter with a giant, and if I had, I wouldn't want to give anything away," he lied, remembering his own fifth year when Hagrid had introduced him to his half brother, Grawp.

"So you want pointers if you ever do?" Pedro countered.

Potter lifted an eyebrow, "No, Pedro. I'm sure I could handle a giant to the best of my ability."

"What is your ability, exactly?"

Potter sighed. Is this about giants or are we on a different topic now? He was silent for a moment, peering apathetically into Pedro's glass eyes. If I tell him to get to work, I would be admitting defeat, if I give him detention I would be admitting defeat and I would have to put up with him for an entire Saturday afternoon. If I answer him, I give into his demands and am defeated. Potter chose the best course of action.

"Well, Pedro, you tell me, considering you seem to be the know-all of the DA class. I'm just the teacher, maybe I don't know everything."

"You don't, you practice all the time," he countered, "I could list off lots of things that you don't know!"

"Well, you may list them, but do you know them yourself? You should always practice too. It never hurts; you wouldn't want to get rusty."

At this point, the entire class was watching the debate. A young oriental girl in the back piped up, "When you fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, do you use every technique that you know?"

The slight change in subject hit the Professor like a blow to the head. He stumbled over his words before answering, "We use names in this classroom Ms. Yamachi, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is not a name, it's Voldemort," a shudder erupted in his class like an earthquake; Pedro had a look of pure happiness on his face, like it was Christmas morning and he had gotten all he wanted and more. Potter sighed, "How many times have I told this class that you can not be afraid of a name?"

One of the most brilliant students in his class spoke up, "We're not afraid of the name, we're afraid of what the name represents!"

"Voldemort," Potter said, sending a young girl into a shivering fit. "What if, tomorrow, somebody had a baby and they named that baby Voldemort? Would you be afraid of the baby?"

"Yes."

"He could be just as dangerous!"

"Why? Some muggles are frightened of something they call 'Satan' much in the same way that you are frightened of Voldemort. Satan is one of many names used to describe the horned, mythological ruler of the underworld; if you were a horrible muggle who committed crimes and such, he would be your king after you die and he would make you do horrible things all day long. They believe that he is greater and has more power than Voldemort ever will and yet, they still call their children 'rotten little devils'. They are not even sure he exists. Would you be afraid if your name were Voldemortina or Voldemorty?"—he could hear stifled giggles from the back of the class—"No, you'd think it's just a name. Well, Voldemort uses his name to instill fear into all of you. He does exists and he hurts people and kills people and he makes sure that everybody knows that he did it so that—"

A hand raised in the back of the class, "So that we'll be afraid of him."

"Exactly!" Potter exclaimed, glad that this situation was turning out for the better instead of an embarrassment on his behalf, "but he also wants everybody to know he did it because he's a pretentious ass."

Laughter erupted from his students. "Of course he does horrible things, you have a right to be afraid of him, just don't be afraid of what he's called. All right, class, I expect those essays on my desk tomorrow. You are dismissed."

His class left happily, moving the stale classroom air around them, causing the candles to dance upon their wicks. Harry remained at his desk at the front of his class for a moment as he read and graded another essay from the sixth year class.

Suddenly the door creaked open. With a sharp intake of breath, Harry took up his wand and aimed it at the door. However, before he could utter a jinx, a bright light entered from the floor in the shape of a shimmering tabby cat. It trotted happily up to the desk. If he had not known what this was, he would have thought it to be the ghost of a long dead cat, but he could recognize a patronus anywhere, this was Professor McGonagall's patronus.

A message sent from the headmaster's office that was related to the Order of the Phoenix.

Thank you everybody who commented these last two chapters: holly, OnMyOwnAllAlone, oopylaoula, xxStarDreamerxx, martuf,Smittened by Marauders,limeincoconut09, CSI Queen and you sweet little anon person there! keep up the comments! (22 can you believe it? 22!) love you guys!