AN: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter 16 - Hamilton Davies
Harry knew something was wrong the moment he entered the Great Hall on Monday morning. Everyone was looking toward the High Table, specifically at one stranger. The gaunt-faced wizard with dark hair and narrow, rectangular black glasses ate with princely poise. Professor Flitwick, sitting near the unknown wizard, kept giving the man sideways glances. Harry threaded his way to where his friends sat.
"Who's the new professor?" he asked as he took a seat beside Neville.
"He hasn't officially been announced yet," one of the twins supplied. "However, we think he's the new Defense Professor," the other twin continued.
"Moody was sacked?" Harry questioned with a frown.
"We don't think so."
"Maybe they brought another professor in," Hermione started to say when a small cluster of owls appeared high overhead, bringing in the daily mail and Daily Prophets.
"Well... there is your answer," Ron grumbled. "Moody was sacked."
Everyone clustered around Lee Jordan's copy of the Daily Prophet. On the front page, was Moody's tortured visage standing next to Dumbledore. On the other side were Cornelius Fudge and a one Hamilton Davies. Professor Davies would take over the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor while Moody would stay on as an extracurricular professor for a short time.
"... showed students Unforgiveable Curses and other dangerous topics," Hermione read under her breath. "That's the real reason," she declared.
"I think it's more that Fudge wants someone loyal to him in Hogwarts," Neville put in. Everyone looked at him. "What? The Triwizard Tournament and all that. This is important for Fudge and he'll want inside information on everything to do with the tournament. There is too much riding on his reputation for anything else to go wrong. Gran said he was on the way out as it is."
"Good point," Harry muttered as he looked up at the new Defense Professor.
"May I have everyone's attention," the Headmaster called a few minutes later. "As some of you are no doubt aware, we are joined by a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this morning. Professor Moody will remain with us until the end of term, filling in on various roles the school may need. To that, I wish everyone to give a warm welcome to Professor Davies," he called as he clapped. The student body didn't clap very loudly. "Now, nothing will change for each of you, and Professor Moody would still like to start the Dueling Club tomorrow. That is all from me, have a wonderful day."
Harry and the others trudged off toward Herbology. They wouldn't meet the new professor until their last class that day. At lunch, several students talked excitedly about the new professor's classroom and style of teaching. It, apparently, was similar to Professor Lupin's method. A lot of hands-on applications of magic followed by book learning and memorization. After lunch, Harry pulled out the Maurader's Map and looked for Fred and George. He wanted to see how their sales were doing from the weekend. A group of dots made him stop looking and frown. Professor Davies, Severus Snape, and Barty Crouch were all in the Defense Classroom. He watched as Barty Crouch's name vanished near the far wall, where the fireplace would be. Moments later, Snape left the room and headed for the dungeons.
Harry wondered what the Department Head of International Magical Co-operation was doing in the new professor's office. It didn't bode well for the school's future if Snape was involved as well. Harry knew it could be something innocuous, but wouldn't Crouch send an owl?
"Welcome," a soft, somber voice greeted as the students came into the Defense Classroom. Where Professor Moody had portraits of convicted witches and wizards, Professor Davies had different types of magical creatures that could all be classified as dangerous. Mirrors and strange instruments stood on a desk behind the professor.
"He's tall," Ron muttered as they took a seat at a far table.
Harry nodded to his friend. Professor Davies was tall and very slim. He resembled a skeleton that had donned robes to teach the class with his gaunt face. That was to say, the professor wasn't sickly, but looked underfed. The professor's dark eyes flicked around the room before settling on Harry. He smiled.
"Welcome all, this is the class I was most looking forward to teaching," Professor Davies said with a bounce in his step that looked almost comical. "Now, you've had some... questionable professors in the past, but I promise, this year you'll have a blast." Someone snorted but didn't interrupt. "Ah, yes, I know Professor Lupin was a student favorite," he laughed. "However, I will do better and keep you more engaged. Tell me, who here knows what Red Caps are?"
Almost everyone raised their hand.
"He seems full of himself," Ron commented as they left the classroom. "Slytherin for sure."
"You may be right," Harry muttered, thinking of what he saw earlier. That might explain the meeting, but he doubted it. "It doesn't matter. He can teach us whatever he wants. Honestly, I'm a little glad to be rid of Professor Moody."
"He was intense," Neville agreed with a hint of a laugh. It sounded forced.
"Do we go to the Library first?" Hermione questioned as she looked from Harry to the others.
"I suppose," Ron sighed, his shoulders drooping. "The others won't want to meet up for some Quidditch until a little later."
"I'd rather get my essays done now," Neville agreed.
That night, Harry closed his curtains around his four-poster bed and warded the space around him to prevent sound from escaping the small dome. He wanted to talk to Sirius without being overheard by the others. "Sirius," he called into the mirror.
It took a few moments for his godfather to appear, looking tired but alert. "Harry, I was wondering when you'd contact me. How are things with the new Ministry stooge?" Sirius asked.
"He seems likable enough. I didn't really interact with him outside of class. I did see him, Snape, and Barty Crouch together in the Defense Office after lunch. On the Map," he quickly clarified.
"Be mindful of anything you say around him... around anyone. Did you get the package?"
"What package?"
Sirius grumbled something. "Remus and I sent you a care package along with some study material a few days ago. It should have gotten to you. If it hasn't then someone intercepted it. Thankfully we didn't send everything we wanted you to work on. I'll figure something out," he muttered.
"I'll ask Dobby to get me anything you don't want someone else to see. I'm already keeping my trunk locked with that spell you taught me. I had to stop Ron the other day from opening my trunk so he wouldn't get zapped."
"Brilliant," Sirius grinned. "I forgot about Dobby. Good idea. I'll get you the stuff together. Has Moody started his Dueling Club?"
"No, that's tomorrow. Are you sure it's really necessary to go?"
"For me, yes, please. I'll sleep better knowing you are learning to protect yourself from someone as skilled as Moody."
Harry wanted to sigh. He'd go to the first class, but anything after that depended on how crazy Professor Moody was. How easily the ex-Auror broke into his mind still disturbed him. "Is there anything new going on for you?" he asked to cover the silence.
"Dealing with the Ministry mostly," Sirius answered with a sigh. "Fudge is causing trouble for everyone. The fiasco at the Cup has caused serious international repercussions. Britain isn't seen as a safe place, and businesses are leaving the country for France and Germany. Fudge is on a tight leash with a few of the major powers within the Ministry."
Harry pursed his lips. Leaving the country might be the right idea. "The twins had amazing sales the first weekend they opened their shop. It surprised me how many people bought the flashcards I provided for the first three years," he admitted.
"Harry, those cards are something amazing. Once you get the next set of enchantments down like you want, you could even sell them to the wider wizarding world, they are that good. I'm not yanking your wand."
Harry grunted. "I'll give it some consideration," he muttered. "Anyway, I'm going to work on my Occlumancy before bed. Dobby will be around tomorrow sometime, or do you want to wait a few days?"
"I'll have everything ready by Thursday at the latest. I should have expected someone to intercept your mail. Anyway, get some sleep. It was good to talk with you."
"And you."
The next Defense Class was about the same as the last. Professor Davies started off with a practical spell to send a stream of water out of the tip of a wand. Harry, Neville, and Hermione weren't the only ones to know the spell, but they were the only ones that could perform it. They each got three points for Gryffindor.
"I think he likes you, Harry," Ron laughed as they made their way toward the dungeons and where Professor Moody's Dueling Club would be.
"I'm not so sure, he looked like he swallowed a lemon when Neville and I cast Aqua Eructo. Speaking of which, Ron, you know how to cast that spell."
"Mate, I did it once. I can't just do it again at the drop of a Galleon."
"Harry, do we really need to go to this Dueling Club?"
"You couldn't learn from a better wizard," Ron argued as he turned to look at Hermione. "Yeah, he's scary and looks like he might curse someone into a puddle, but that doesn't mean he will."
"Sirius said I should go," Harry sighed. He wasn't thrilled either. "We'll go once and then see from there." Hermione still didn't look happy, but she followed along.
The turnout was a lot larger than Harry expected. Professor Moody stood in the center of a large room that might have been a ballroom at one time. The Marauders, or maybe the castle itself, didn't give the room a name on the Map. A little smaller than the Great Hall was wide, the short ceiling made the chamber feel cramped. The sizing of the room made it perfect for the eight dueling strips that Professor Moody set up.
"Greetings," the ex-Auror growled as he stomped across the center dueling strip. The raised wooden dais made the professor's wooden peg leg sound louder than it normally did. "You're here to learn the basics of dueling and proper wandwork in a controlled setting. Don't think I know you'll use what you learn here in the corridors. If I catch you, and I will, I will turn you into a newt and put you in a box for the remainder of the day. Try my patience, and you'll find out the hard way."
"He can't do that!" Hermione hissed in a low voice. She wasn't the only one that disagreed with the professor's disciplinary measures.
"My father will have you thrown out," Draco Malfoy jeered. "You can't use Human Transfiguration as a punishment anymore, old man."
"Try your luck then... child. See if your daddy saves you. You're one I'm going to take special pleasure in watching this year. I've heard you like to bully those smaller and weaker than you. Well, guess what, I'm the biggest bully that roams these halls, and you are certainly weaker than I am... boy."
"That... will be quite enough, Professor Moody," a squeaky voice called as Professor Flitwick appeared from within the crowd. "I will assist the lessons and ensure that no student is acting out of order. Dueling is an art, not a death match. If I see any of you attempting to hurt your dueling partner you will not return. Period. If Professor Moody or I tell you to leave, you will leave. Try us to your detriment. Dueling is a serious sport and deserves as much, if not more, concentration than it takes to play Quidditch."
The hall seemed to buzz with low chatter at the diminutive professor's words. No one had ever been thrown out of a club before, at least no one anyone knew.
"Alright, eyes up here," Professor Moody instructed. "I will go over the basics and what I expect for the coming weeks."
Harry watched but didn't participate when it came time for a few quick duels. Everyone was eager to try what Professor Moody demonstrated against a familiar dueling dummy. Harry knew the ex-Auror was showing off when he crippled a mannequin that sent stunners out faster than any school-aged witch or wizard could ever hope to achieve. Professor Flitwick forbade anyone to use the Stunning Spell. Everyone who agreed to duel started with the Disarming Charm. Some students complained, but Harry noticed that few decided it wasn't worth trying to get a spot on the dueling platforms.
"Mate, did you see how he obliterated that dummy. It looked familiar, like the one back in that store cupboard we took over," Ron commented with a glance at Harry.
"It was."
"I noticed you didn't try to duel," Hermione whispered as the group approached the Great Hall. "Why? I thought that was the reason Sirius wanted you to come."
"Hermione, could any of them really give me, or you, or anyone who's practiced with us, any real issue? We'd just be painting a target on our backs. I just want to work on the stuff I want to work on without showing off. You saw how quickly Ron disarmed that fifth-year Ravenclaw. That girl was upset," he whispered back.
"Did you see me take Edgecombe's wand from her? Hah, she looked like she wanted to cry," Ron cackled to Neville ahead of them.
Harry gave Hermione a level look as they passed a knot of Slytherins grumbling about the unfair treatment of Professor Moody. Cassius Warrington, a sixth-year Slytherin, didn't listen to Professor Moody and tried to follow up a Disarming Charm with a Jelly-Legs Jinx for laughs. Moody struck him down with a Stunning Spell while facing the other direction. It happened so fast that Harry had trouble tracking the professor's movements. Warrington was revied and promptly escorted out of the room by an irate Professor Moody.
On Thursday, Dobby appeared to Harry in his dormitory before bed. The others were still in the Common Room after talking about the insane duel between Professor Moody and Professor Flitwick. Harry hadn't gone and felt a little upset with himself. From what Ron and Neville reported, the duel was done with simple, yet effective, charms that overwhelmed their opponent's defenses. There wasn't a winner, but that wasn't the point.
"Harry Potter," Dobby greeted with a wide grin. "Mr. Black has given Dobby a package for you." With a wave of his hand, a large wrapped parcel appeared and floated over to Harry's trunk.
"Thank you, Dobby. How are you doing? I know we don't talk a lot while I'm at school."
"Dobby is having fun, sir! He is weeding the Wheezes' garden and cleaning the Black's home. It is in such a state, Master Harry Potter."
Harry winced at his house-elf's words. He didn't like being called Master anything. After reading as much as he had on the way wizards treated house-elves anything even related to the word 'master' gave him the chills. It was a shock when he wrote Master Ogata and felt a little uncomfortable while penning the letter to his former mentor. "Thank you for helping out Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with their home as well as whatever Sirius needs. I know he and Kreacher don't get along."
"Kreacher is a bad house-elf," Dobby spat with more vehemence than Harry had ever heard out of the friendly house-elf.
"What?"
"Kreacher is not loyal to the House of Black. Kreacher is loyal to Kreacher."
Harry hadn't expected that, but he supposed he should have. Sirius and Kreacher's relationship was terrible, and the bond between them must have frayed to the point of breaking. It was conceivable then that the bond keeping Kreacher alive passed to another Black. He needed to speak to Sirius. "Dobby, I need to talk to Sirius, sorry, but I need to go."
"Dobby is not upset. Whenever Master Harry Potter needs him, Dobby will be there!" the house-elf said before disappearing with a snap of his fingers.
"Sirius Black," Harry said into the mirror ten minutes later once he'd found an empty classroom near the Gryffindor Tower. It was the old classroom he'd appropriated in his first year.
It took a few minutes before the mirror changed to reveal Sirius' face. "Harry?" his godfather questioned. "What's with that look."
"Kreacher."
"Oh, him. Listen, I've tried talking to him, but the memories. He's kept to himself somewhere in the house for a while now. I haven't even been back in a week or so. What brought that up?"
"Dobby said Kreacher is a bad house-elf. That Kreacher is loyal to Kreacher. Not the House of Black."
Sirius' face froze. "Dobby was sure about that?" he asked, but Harry didn't think Sirius needed an answer. "That changes things. If Kreacher isn't loyal to the house, or the House of Black, then someone is sustaining him. We might be overthinking this," he growled.
Harry watched as his godfather's expressions changed as he worked through whatever was going on in the older wizard's mind. "Is there a way to fix this?" he asked. "If someone like Bellatrix, who is technically a Black still, gets the bond..."
"No, that wouldn't happen. Kreacher would have to visit Azkaban and brave the dementors to even complete the bonding. Even then, it might not work. No, the one Kreacher would go to Narcissa, Malfoy's wife. I... need to speak to Remus and Dumbledore about this. Harry, you were right about making up with Kreacher. I need to see if I can't salvage this. I'll keep you updated," Sirius said before the magic in the mirror faded.
Harry was left looking at his reflection. He didn't like to look at his face and what he saw made him grimace. Hermione might be right. He looked dreadful from the lack of sleep and overuse of the Wideye Potion. Shoving the mirror back into his pocket, Harry strode back to his dorm. He ignored the others when they called to him and made it in time to stop Ron from messing around with whatever Sirius sent.
"Mate, what's in there. That wasn't there earlier."
"No idea, Sirius sent it and said it was important. However, I should open this when I'm alone. I'll check it out tomorrow after class," Harry lied. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ron. He just didn't want whatever his godfather sent him to become common knowledge without first inspecting the package.
"You going to keep using that potion?" Ron whispered as Neville came in.
"No, tonight, I'll sleep."
"Good, you... well... I don't have to tell you."
"No, you don't. Hey Neville, you look troubled."
The round-faced boy, now as tall as Harry but not quite Ron's height, glanced around the room. "Harry did... you perhaps make Professor Davies angry?" he asked.
"No, I barely interact with him in class, much less outside of class."
"Well... the professor talks about you, to the other students. It isn't... bad... maybe."
"Just tell me what he says," Harry sighed. The professor was a Ministry Official, so he could be stirring up trouble.
"It isn't that he's outright saying anything, but Angelina just mentioned in her class with the Hufflepuffs this morning that Professor Davies mentioned you and the Daily Prophet articles in the same sentences. He never outright said you were part of the Quidditch World Cup mess, but... well..."
Harry grunted. "If he's saying that in front of Gryffindors, then he's probably saying worse in front of the other students. Well, I'm keeping my head down and not getting into trouble. The others will have plenty to talk about at Halloween when the other schools get here," he muttered.
"You aren't worried?" Neville asked.
Harry debated telling his friend his plans to leave the country, then quickly dismissed the idea. "I only have to put up with them for another three years. They can point or talk behind my back as much as they want, but after I'm gone, they'll still mean nothing to me. I and Sirius haven't done anything wrong. These lies by the Ministry seem to be their bread-and-butter for dealing with anyone they can't get to legally. I'll just gather information and throw it back in their face one day," he laughed. He wasn't sure how, but he'd do it.
"Mate, don't smile like that. You look deranged. Anyway, a little wizard chess before bed?" Ron asked hopefully.
"I want to get a little more studying done. No, I'm not going to use the Wideye Potion," Harry sighed when Neville looked at him sharply. His friend nodded before turning back toward the stairs.
"I'll play a little, Ron."
"Brilliant!"
After his friends left, Harry carefully undid the package Sirius sent. He set it on the middle of the floor, well away from his bed. It was almost a surprise when nothing happened. Inside was three wooden boxes. The first, smallest box on top, had several sheets of parchment describing how to enchant a mannequin to become a dueling partner. Harry wondered if it would be the same enchantments Professor Moody used. The stack of parchments was thick and written in Professor Lupin's handwriting, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the three were working together.
The second wooden box had three books in it. The first was one he already owned on Hex-deflection and Counter-curses. He hadn't read through it all, just picking out various spells and charms for his studies with Hermione. The next book was all about defensive spells, charms, and wards. Wards were a subject he was just beginning to understand. It was like enchanting an object but different in many ways. Ancient Runes played a part in wards as a symbol to anchor his magic. As long as the rune wasn't disturbed, the magic would continue. The last book surprised him. It was on physical exercise for a dedicated dueling wizard. He supposed he should have expected it, as there were books that focused on the physical aspects of building your body for Quidditch.
"Well... I know what I'm reading tonight," Harry laughed as he put the three books on his bed. He went back over to the last box and was about to open it when he got a... feeling. A strange emotion washed over him, faint as a breeze, that he couldn't place. Narrowing his eyes, he took a step back and raised his wand. "Aberto," he intoned.
The lid exploded upward as thousands of glittery pebbles erupted from inside the box. "Immobulus," he sighed with a flick of his wand. The fountain of glitter froze five feet in the air as the lid thumped onto the carpet. Spinning his wand, he gathered up all of the glitter within the box into a tight ball and flicked his wand once more. The ball of glitter vanished.
"Very funny," Harry huffed as he stalked over to the wooden box. Inside were tubes attached to four corners of the box. He grunted and vanished those as well. A parchment with an inked portrait of Sirius' smiling face was on top of a stack of parchments and a few Galleons were scattered around the box. Frowning, Harry took the first document. His eyes widened as he read a deed to a property in France. The next parchment showed a sale of an apothecary business in the south of France between Sirius Black and Tres Lingard. Harry felt his chest tighten as he picked up the book at the bottom of the box. It was a children's guide to learning French.
Harry closed his eyes and blew out a breath. His hands shook. Sirius took him seriously. He would be able to leave the country and be someone unknown at another school. The other books paled in comparison to the opportunity Sirius was offering. Harry's godfather was preparing for them to move. One more year of the Ministry and their meddling.
Nothing could ruin Harry's mood in the following weeks, not even Professor Davies and the Ministry. The Daily Prophet wrote almost daily about finding and catching those responsible for the attacks at the Cup. The death count had risen to nearly fifty witches and wizards of all ages. St. Mungos hadn't been able to save everyone in the burn wards, and reports streamed in from other countries about similar issues. Fudge wasn't being subtle anymore and called Madam Bones to arrest Sirius Black from eye-witness accounts. Accounts that he couldn't produce when questioned by several reporters.
"Blimey, I think he wants Sirius gone," Ron mumbled through his bit of toast.
"They couldn't catch Black last time, they won't catch him again," Seamus Finnigan snorted. "Me mum wants to apologize for some of the stuff she said about you, Harry. I'd like to apologize as well," the Irish wizard formally said as he took a seat across from Harry. "We can see, just as plainly as anyone else, that you and Black didn't do that stuff at the Cup. I don't know why we believed the Ministry. Fudge hasn't provided a single shred of evidence on either one of you. I just wanted to apologize because that's what I stand for is all," Seamus clarified when Harry looked at him funny. "I admit my wrongs, and so does me mum."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. No hard feelings on my part. I know who is right and who is wrong here."
"Good. Now, are you working on the fourth-year flashcards the twins are selling? I want to pick some up as soon as they are available."
"The twins should have them already," Harry frowned.
"Sold out. So are the O.W.L. ones that Angelina talked about. Just let me know, and thanks for accepting our apologies."
Harry watched the stocky wizard get up and wander farther up the table to sit with Dean Thomas. "I didn't think they'd sell that well," Ron muttered. "Wonder if the twins will let me get a copy."
"We'll charge double," a familiar voice answered. "And make you enchant them yourself," the other twin finished. ""Hi, Harry.""
"I'm guessing this is about the cards?"
"We're out," Fred or George confirmed. "George is working on other projects and can't enchant them at the moment," Fred said in a low voice. "Could you..."
"I'll try to get you a few more in a few days. The professors are getting antsy. Halloween is three weeks away. You know, we still haven't heard anything back from Professor McGonagall about our summer coursework," he said with a glance at Hermione.
"I spoke with her yesterday," Hermione said as she dabbed her lip with a cloth red and gold napkin. "She said she'd have subjects for us to work on next week that she felt comfortable letting us learn."
Harry thought he did an excellent job hiding his reaction. "We'll look over whenever she gets around to giving it to us," he said neutrally.
"That she feels comfortable giving you?" Ginny snorted. "Why doesn't she just give you two N.E.W.T. subject stuff and be done with it? You're both obviously ready."
Harry looked at the blushing witch. She refused to meet his eye. "Hermione and I both have projects that could take up most of the year anyway. We'll get around to whatever Professor McGonagall gets us at some point, but frankly, I'm not too chuffed if we don't get around to the coursework." Ron blinked, a bit of food falling out of his mouth. Even Hermione stared at him. "What?"
"Mate... you loved all that stuff they gave you."
"Yeah, when it mattered. The O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s will do nothing for me now," Harry shrugged. "Better to work on my own stuff so when I graduate I can do what I want without permission from the Ministry."
"Blimey," Ron muttered with a shake of his head.
Neville sat back and crossed his arms, studying Harry. He didn't say anything, but Harry knew his friend was analyzing every word he'd spoken.
"Well, we needed to let you know about the flashcards. Stop by the... uh, office, at some point soon. We've got a little something for you," Fred said with a grin.
"Harry, do you have a moment?" Neville asked as they took the stairs down to Snape's classroom. Harry hummed and slowed. Neville looked around and moved closer. "Can we... really duel? Not like the showy stuff they're doing in the Dueling Club. Really duel... like you did with... you know."
Harry stopped and looked at his friend. His frenzied duel with Peter Pettigrew was not something he liked to dwell on. "Neville, what's going on? Is something wrong?" he asked with a frown. He didn't think anyone was bullying Neville.
Neville sighed. "I'm not dumb, Harry. You're learning French, and that isn't just because Beauxbaton is coming to Hogwarts. The reason you don't care about Professor McGonagall's coursework is that you'll be leaving. I don't blame you, but it's obvious to anyone who knows you. You've been studying that French book for weeks. Even the way you say certain words has a slight French accent. I want a chance to get better before you leave. You are my friend and are probably the only person who will take my request seriously. My Gran certainly won't."
Harry was aware the others stopped ahead of them. There was only one answer he could give. "We'll duel, Neville. Just not in front of the others," he whispered and strode to catch up. Harry couldn't miss the massive grin Neville had, even through a terrible lesson with Snape.
Harry told Hermione he was going to see Madam Pomfrey, and Neville told Zoe that he was headed up to the dorms to lay down for a bit. Both witches seemed to take them at their word. On the second floor, Harry led Neville into a classroom he'd scouted out on the Map. After four minutes of cleaning things up and stacking all the desks against the walls, Harry and Neville stood forty paces apart.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Harry asked as he raised his wand into a high-guard.
"I'm tired of not feeling confident. I'm tired of feeling left behind. I could have saved that Muggle. I could have fought those Death Eaters. I will not feel this way again," Neville growled.
Harry saw the steely determination in his friend's eyes. He noticed the crackle of magic around Neville and took a deep breath. "Then come, Son of Frank and Alice Longbottom."
It was either the right or the wrong thing to say as Neville bellowed and raised his wand. "Tarantallegra!"
"Verso," Harry muttered as a silver glow emanated from the tip of his wand. The Dancing Feet Spell bounced off his counter-jinx and slammed into the desks to his left. "Vermillious," he cast as he moved to the right and flicked his wand in a circle, concentrating on a bit of rubbish on the floor.
"Protego," Neville huffed as Harry's Red Sparks Spell reflected off the silvery shield. "Depulso!"
Harry spun on the balls of his feet and moved back to his left, not bothering to counter the spell speeding for him. "Stupefy," he shot toward Neville's feet. Just as he'd hoped, Neville stepped to the left and blocked the spell with a Shield Charm. "Incarcerous."
"Flipendo," Neville hissed as the Binding Spell flew over his shoulder.
"Verso," Harry answered and flicked his counter back toward Neville. Bring his wand back down he shot a Stunning Spell at his friend.
Neville held his ground and sent everything he could at Harry. "Aqua Eructo," he bellowed as a jet of water rushed toward Harry's face.
Harry felt a tug at the corner of his lips. "Contineo," he cast as the water rushed into a ball in front of him. "Intergorus." The water coalesced into a shield and began to spin.
"Uh... Harry," Neville gasped.
"Exsolvus."
"Protego!" Neville bellowed as several jets of water rushed at him. Under the combined assault of Harry's spell and the rubbish on the floor near his feet that transformed into a rope to bind Neville's feet, Harry's friend got drenched.
"You did well," Harry laughed as he helped Neville dry off with a charm.
"I thought I was going to die for a second there when all that water came at me."
Harry smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You did well, but we need to work on your spell speed, accuracy, and how to out-think me. I had that trap with the rope set up from the beginning. What is around us is just as important as the wizard you're dueling. Ma... Master Ogata taught me that. Sirius and Professor Lupin just reinforced that this summer with the little dueling we did. I think you'll be just as good or better than me one day," he genuinely said as he hoised Neville up.
"Again," Neville grinned.
"Again," Harry agreed.
Neville wasn't the only person that Harry spent a considerable time focused on. During Potions and lunch, Harry couldn't help but think of Daphne Greengrass. He couldn't figure out what she meant to him. She was a friend, but maybe he'd missed something. Her overreaction at the start of the term demonstrated that she saw them as something more. Even Ginny, who was not a fan of the Greengrass heir, thought he should have written to her. Harry knew he'd missed something, some signal he was supposed to pick up on or statement that clearly defined whatever they were. The only thing for it was to apologize. However, whenever he tried to approach her, she would lock eyes with him and her body stiffened. It was clear she didn't want to speak with him.
Harry came up with a plan for breakfast on Saturday. Friday night, he stayed up late writing a letter using the book Charm Your Smile To Win A Witch. Five entire chapters were devoted to telling the witch you liked that you were sorry. Harry snorted at that but had a feeling he'd be rereading those chapters more than any of the others if his luck held. It was a simple letter that he hoped would convey his emotions about their relationship. He also invited her to a morning walk about the lake to air out their feelings.
On Saturday morning, he waited for Daphne to appear with her sister and a small knot of Slytherin girls. He had a feeling inter-house politics were in full swing as he'd seen more than one Slytherin in a compromising situation in the last few weeks. Taking out his wand, Harry made his letter invisible under the table. He took a deep breath and, focusing hard, he levitated the letter over to Daphne with wandless magic. It wouldn't do to be seen waving his wand around the Great Hall. Too many people would see him. Once the letter landed in Daphne's lap, he let the spells go.
The look of surprise, quickly schooled by a blank mask, on Daphne's face almost made Harry laugh. She slid the letter into her robes but her sister saw it. Astoria made some fuss about the letter, even trying to reach into her sister's robes. Daphne was not having it and rapped Astoria on the top of the head with one knuckle. Unsmiling, Daphne went back to eating without a word.
Harry was hoping she'd read it at the table but realized he'd misjudged her. She wouldn't open a letter she received covertly, probably thinking it was a secret message or something to do with Slytherin business. He shrugged and went back to eating. It wasn't until almost the end of breakfast when, after glancing at her multiple times during the meal, he realized she was reading the letter. He saw a small pile of letters in front of her and smiled. She'd waited until the post came. He sat back and watched, wondering what she would say.
Astoria, talking to another young Slytherin girl Harry didn't know the name of, missed when her sister started and looked up sharply at him. It made Harry fight back a smile. Daphne knew where he was sitting and looked up at him without searching the Gryffindor table for his face. She locked eyes with him for a brief moment before stiffening her spine and glancing back to the letter. She bowed her head as if thinking over what to say or rereading the letter. Harry felt his heart thump in his chest as he waited for her answer.
Daphne took forever to look back up at him. Harry locked eyes with her and waited. At the distance they were sitting, it was hard to see the color of her eyes or the cool light that blazed behind her calculating stare, but he could imagine it. A few students passed, interrupting their staring match. Daphne blinked and nodded once before folding up the letter. Harry felt the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh.
"You okay, mate?" Ron asked as he turned from his conversation with Neville.
"Never better," Harry laughed. He suppressed a smile when he realized that Astoria hadn't missed a thing and was excitedly clapping, much to Daphne's displeasure.
The next morning, Harry waited by the path down to the lake. He didn't set a time for them to meet other than sometime before breakfast. Getting up early, he didn't mind waiting a while for Daphne to show. Sitting on the lawn in the early sunlight felt amazing on his face as he fiddled with a new set of flashcards. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look up.
Sunlight glistened off the dew in Daphne Greengrass' blonde hair. It sparkled as her dark eyes met his. He stood and brushed off his robes as he waited for her. "Good morning, Miss Greengrass," he greeted with a formal bow.
She eyed him up and down. "At least you know how to greet me," she remarked with her chin held high. "Your letter said you wished to walk."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of her statement and nodded. "Yes. I wanted to talk to you about... well, first... no. Let's enjoy the morning if you wish," he said, faltering before remembering the few lessons in the book he'd memorized. Holding out the crook of his elbow he stepped to one side of the path, giving Daphne the option of taking his arm or walking beside him.
She chose to walk beside him. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. They took about ten paces toward the lake in silence before he spoke first. "I wanted to say that I was wrong to not write you a letter over the summer. While I did have a lot going on, it was rude. Hermione mentioned that I should get in the habit of writing more to my friends," he said with a weak grin.
"I was upset."
Harry nodded, wondering what he was going to say to a statement like that. They continued along the path in silence as the sun rose in the sky. All the things he wanted to say to her had fled his mind. The preprepared sentences that he'd come up with to explain how he felt and why he'd thought their relationship was that of friends all vanished. His mind felt blank. "I... I first wanted to say that I was sorry for my actions and that I've taken so long in apologizing to you. It's been over a month since... you slapped me," he sighed.
Daphne jerked a little. "I... too apologize. Things were... difficult that day and you were a..." she trailed off as if trying to find the words.
"An easy target for your anger?" Harry smirked.
"No," Daphne muttered. "No, I don't have a reason for it. Just that I was angry." She stopped and turned to look at him. Harry stopped too, staring into her dark eyes. They stood like that for some time, each studying the other. Harry thought he could see something, some question, behind her stare but didn't want to focus too deeply. He'd remembered how he'd accidentally read Mrs. Weasley's mind.
"I didn't really feel it," Harry said after the silence stretched on for too long.
His words seemed to startle Daphne out of whatever she'd been thinking. She snorted and shook her head. "Mr. Potter, you are a strange wizard," she laughed. It was a ghost of a laugh, barely a quirk of her mouth and a breeze passing her lips, but it made Harry smile.
"I would like to do this again... without the awkward apologies," Harry said as he fought not to laugh. "I want to know about Daphne Greengrass, the fearless heir of the Greengrass family. Most sacred of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, masters of the Charms Hall, and delvers of the secrets to healing," he joked.
Daphne's face plainly said she was not amused but her eyes sparked as he'd never seen before. He couldn't put a word or feeling to it, but he knew she was fighting not to laugh. A bubble of confidence thundered up from somewhere deep inside him. It was something about her stare that made him want to know more about Daphne Greengrass. Made him want to see if there was something more than friendship between them. "Come, may I escort the beautiful witch on a morning stroll? I want to tell you about my summer, my rather eventful trip to the Ministry, and... in return," he said with a pompous voice as he turned to her again. "I wish to know more about my lovely companion and her hopes, dreams, and accolades," he said as he boldly took her hand and looked her in the eye.
Daphne didn't say anything, but she didn't let go of his hand either. She felt warm, alive against his numb fingers.
