Disclaimer: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work. I own nothing except Salazar's wife, son, and various other original characters. This story is an AU of sixth year, but it will contain a few spoilers from Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. However, it will still seriously diverge from canon.
"blah": dialogue
'blah': thoughts
"blah" : Parseltongue
"blah": Legilimency/Telepathy
Italics: excerpt from a book /newspaper or any other written form
Bold: a word or phrase that is emphasized
Italics, Underlined, and Bold: location/date of a scene in the story
Chapter Twenty: Defense of the Dark Arts
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potions Classroom: September 3rd, 1996
The journey to the false Chamber of Secrets the previous evening had actually been quite useful. Luna and Harry had discovered an entire library filled with books they had never seen before, many of them covering advancements in magic that the rest of the wizarding world seemed to have ignored. However, it had not all been sunshine and daisies, much to the young couple's chagrin. On their way back to Ravenclaw Tower, it had only been by the grace of whoever invented Invisibility spells, as well as Hogwarts herself, that the two had not been caught out by Filch. Seeing the Squib patrolling the hallways was not an unusual sight, but three in the morning was pushing it a bit in Harry's book. Perhaps he really did suffer from insomnia as Luna had suggested.
Regardless, the two managed to make it back to their respective dorms and to their beds, using the Gate to catch a few extra hours of sleep. In Harry's case, he felt he needed it. He had Potions first thing.
He was currently sitting down in the class in question, taking the seat Hermione had saved him. Green eyes glanced around the room to note that it contained students from all four houses, though it seemed that Slytherin was by far the majority. In fact, all of the sixth-year Slytherins, minus Goyle, were there. Unfortunately, there were only two Hufflepuffs, Ernie and a student Harry didn't know, and around half of the Ravenclaw group. Of course, there were also the three Gryffindors: Hermione, Harry, and Neville.
The fact that Neville was in NEWT Potions seemed to be the cause of much of the whispering between the other students. Even Hermione, who normally never gossiped, was leaning over to quietly ask Jacqueline Jordan, a Ravenclaw girl, what she thought about the situation. A moment later, the bushy-haired witch turned back around and was about to ask Harry the same question, but he halted the action with a knowing smirk. After all, he already knew or could hazard a guess as to how Neville had pulled off the Outstanding needed to be in the class. Yet, Harry wasn't telling; it really wasn't his place to say anything. So instead, he merely grinned and nodded a greeting to the boy, who was sitting across the row with Millicent Bulstrode.
It was at that very moment that Professor Snape chose to make his presence known. He banged open the classroom door and strode in, black robes billowing behind him as usual. The reborn Salazar actually had to fight the urge to laugh as the action was so very much like a previous Potions master of Hogwarts.
The professor stalked up to his desk before whipping around to face his students. Snape's dark eyes swept around the room, lingering on both Neville and then Harry. But astoundingly, the Potions master did not sneer at either Gryffindor. He merely looked at them, an exceptionally strange expression on his face and a dazed gleam in his eyes. It was almost like he were trying not to be surprised and that only his Occlumency shields were saving him. Yet, at the same time his face was somewhat vacant, much like the expression of Lockhart after he had accidentally Obliviated himself.
Snapping out of his sort-of daze, the man immediately started what seemed to be a memorized speech about the importance and difficulty of NEWT Potions and that they would have to work hard to do well. This in and of itself was not something unexpected. But what truly surprised the class was the fact that there was no sarcasm in the teacher's voice, though there was a hint of his usual passion for the subject. Regardless, Snape simply spoke to them using a neutral voice, addressing them as though they were actually intelligent. Quite a change from his usual demeanor. There were no snide remarks made about the unsuitability of certain students, like Harry and Neville. In fact, the professor had seemingly forgotten about them entirely, a fact which was belied by the occasional drifting of the man's gaze to the two Gryffindors.
Finishing his speech, Snape waved his wand. And the instructions for the day's potion, a healing draught, appeared on the board. But even here the teacher's actions were strange; the instructions were given in far more detail than usual. Further, there were what appeared to be warnings as to what would happen if an ingredient was added at the wrong stage.
The students exchanged glances, only to receive another shock when Snape spoke.
"If you have any problems, turn to page 146 in your books. There is additional information about the potion," the professor said calmly before walking around to the other side of his desk and sitting down. He simply and blankly stared as the students moved to fetch their ingredients.
Feeling a bit disconcerted, Harry reached out with both his Legilimency and his Empathy to confirm that this was in fact the Severus Snape they all knew and loved. He gently connected with the man's emotional aura and received all the confirmation he needed. Rather expectedly, the dark man was a mixture of confusion and deeply hidden fear. Snape could tell that something was different within himself, different but not necessarily wrong. Additionally, he now had a strange pull towards his believed arch-nemesis, that dratted Potter boy. It was an odd pull, not one of attraction really. But more of a draw, a feeling which told him that they were connected in special some manner. A feeling that informed him he should be civil and, dare Severus even think it, nice to the younger wizard because the teenager was important to the Potions master in some unfathomable way. So very important.
That in and of itself would have been enough to drive Snape up the proverbial wall. Not to mention the much weaker but still noticeable pull he felt towards the other bane of his existence, Longbottom. However, there was still the fundamental change in himself to deal with. It was surprisingly that change that scared the man the most, far more than he would ever admit or show. As such, he was covering everything with an empty mask, hiding everything from everyone, including himself, until he could work out the change.
Slipping back to himself, the young wizard couldn't help but feel sorry for the Potions master. Mostly due to the fact that he knew the cause of the change in the man and the pull. But there wasn't anything he could currently do to help. He would simply have to wait it out.
Sighing, the young man returned to the task at hand. Nevertheless, before he did so, he first sent a little wave of hope to the professor. An emotional pick-me-up as it were.
Around a half-hour later, Harry had to fight to keep his face even as he added the excellently diced rosemary to the now turquoise potion. His returned memories had finally given him what five years of Professor Snape's class never could, a thorough understanding of potions. He now understood that potions must be stirred different ways depending on the ingredients and their properties so that everything would combine properly. He now knew that heat and the size of ingredients affected the rate at which substances were absorbed. He now comprehended that the metal of the cauldron could and did act as a catalyst. He understood the effect of lunar phase on ingredients, as well as dozen of other potions basics that he should have learned ages ago but hadn't. Yet, it was all fine now because it was all there in his head, and he vehemently thanked Quinn for his solid grounding in the subject.
Green eyes gazed at his potion as the reborn Salazar stirred counterclockwise seven times, an action which allowed the rosemary to be fully absorbed, before stirring it five times clockwise as he added the sage. He causally looked up, pretending to be rereading the instructions. In truth, he was seeing if Snape was still at his desk.
He was. The professor was still in the exact same position he had assumed at the beginning of class, sitting in his chair and staring blankly at the back wall. His dark eyes were half-lidded, making it seem like he was asleep or very close to it.
Shrugging his shoulders, Harry turned to Hermione to see if she had noticed the teacher's odd behavior. She apparently had… as had everyone else in the lesson. The entire class' attention kept flickering back from their work to their teacher and back again. A few of them shuddered now and then, finding the change in Snape's behavior very disconcerting. Everyone was used to him hovering about like a giant bat, so the quiet and the stillness were unusual and a bit bothersome.
Turning back to this work, Harry added the dried and powdered leech, sprinkling it lightly around in a circle. He watched as the potion turned the correct shade of lavender described in the book and on the board. Feeling a bit courageous at the moment and knowing that it wouldn't actually mess up the potion, the teenager added two pinches of ground mint to the concoction and stirred three times in a figure eight.
Five minutes later and with a cheeky grin plastered onto his face, Harry removed his potion from the fire, poured it in an unbreakable bottle, and proceeded to set it on the Potions master's desk. The professor finally turned his gaze from the back wall and simply watched the reborn Salazar under his still half-closed eyelids, the strangely vacant expression fixed on his face. As Harry walked back to his seat, he could still feel the other man's eyes on him, but he simply shrugged it off and cleaned up his work station.
The class ended shortly thereafter, but Harry lingered in the Potions classroom for a few minutes, pretending to be searching for something in his bag and further observing Professor Snape's odd behavior. The man hadn't even risen from his desk yet.
Later, the reborn Salazar was one of the last to queue up outside of Transfiguration, his next class. He slowly ambled over to the space between Hermione and Neville, casually leaning against the wall. Harry turned to comment about Potions to the witch, but she was searching through her one of her textbooks. Harry instead turned to Neville. Soon the two plus Seamus, Dean, and Ron were speculating as to what was going on, coming up with anything from the fumes finally getting to the Potions master to a creation gone wrong. Letting the four continue with the increasingly wild suggestions, Harry relaxed against the wall and turned his attention to the interesting conversation several of the Slytherin were having on the opposite side of the corridor.
"Even Longbottom did brilliant on his OWLs. Well, we know he made on Outstanding in Potions, though I'm not really sure how he did that with Professor Snape breathing down his neck during every lesson. But I heard that he actually had eleven," Millicent commented with a strange edge to her voice that sounded almost like admiration.
Her eyes flickered to Neville, who noticed her glance. After a moment's pause, he offered a tiny smile. Surprisingly, the Slytherin smiled back.
Blaise Zabini, who had been digging through his bag and had missed the entire exchange, did a double take. "Really? Can you imagine that?" he asked with incredulity. "I thought he was a rather poor student except in Herbology."
"Him making eleven OWLs! What is the world coming to?" Pansy Parkinson questioned, nudging him in the side.
Millicent gave her an evil look but suddenly smirked. "Well, seeing as I did exceptionally good, I can almost imagine doing that well on my OWLs. Unlike you, of course," she added in a sickeningly sweet undertone. "How many did you get again? Five? Six?" she asked him with a mocking quality to her voice.
"Eight!" Pansy answered fiercely. "And I only did poorly because I was ill that week!"
She was about to make what was undoubtedly a rude comment when Minerva opened the classroom door, ushering them inside. The woman cast a suspicious look at the now sulking Parkinson, showing that she had undoubtedly heard the witch insulting one of her Lions, but she strode up to the front without commenting. Waiting until everyone was seated, Minerva proceeded to give them yet another NEWT lecture, similar to the one Harry had received from Flitwick yesterday and Snape earlier. She stressed the importance of the NEWT class, making it quite clear that it was difficult and would most likely become even more difficult as they went.
Her eyes locked with each student in turn as the silence stretched out after her speech. However, when her eyes met Harry's, some strange emotion passed through them. It was just a flash, much like the one that occurred when one suddenly remembered something important but forgot it just as quickly. But it obviously startled Minerva because she forcefully shook her head, eliciting several strange glances from her students.
Afterwards, the teacher set them a task, a simple and silently cast Conjuring spell, which succeeded in completely frustrating the majority of the students in less than ten minutes. Harry, however, wasn't one of them because he could already cast the spell successfully. Yet, he didn't want to attract undue attention to himself, so he put on airs of attempting to perform it. He used the time to his advantage since he didn't actually need the practice and studied Minerva.
She, like Snape, had a strangely empty look to her face, and her grey eyes kept traveling to the part of the room he was at. Even though she moved from student to student, helping and chastising them as needed, her eyes still strayed back to the reborn Salazar. It was almost as if he were an incredibly difficult puzzle that she was desperate to solve. Several times their gazes met, but she hastily averted her eyes each time. Further, she pretended that she wasn't watching him. As such, she didn't call him out for not working on the spell. But less than a moment later, her eyes would always return to Harry, and the cycle would start anew.
The young wizard knew that Minerva's behavior had a root much similar to Snape's. She, too, could sense the change within herself. Further, she could already feel the pull towards Harry and the stirrings of a much weaker one to Neville. But unlike the Potions master, this draw did not frighten her, though it still appeared to confuse her greatly. Regardless, she seemed to be putting it down to the friendlier relationship she now shared with her student. Minerva was thankfully not fighting the pull. In fact, the teenager sensed that she was embracing it. This didn't mean that she was going to throw caution to the wind, however. She was still watchful about it, if a bit curious as well, which explained her searching glances.
After a while Minerva's bizarre behavior began to lose its fascination, not to mention the fact that he had yet to finish the assignment, so he finally went back to the classwork. He successfully cast it on his first true attempt, and the reborn Salazar happily held up the lovely yet simple ring he had conjured.
"Excellent work, Mr. Potter," a voice whispered in his ear, so soft that the rest of the students hadn't even heard. A hand gently squeezed his shoulder.
Harry turned around to look at Minerva. "Thank you, Professor." He gave her a cheeky grin and a wink. "I had an excellent teacher."
Professor McGonagall snorted. "Indeed." She smiled and moved on, going to lecture Seamus about the inappropriate use of his wand, but Harry could still see her eyes occasionally traveling to him, watching intently.
The rest of the lesson passed quickly enough, doubly so since there were only five minutes left before the bell. Once more the green-eyed teenager hung back after the others, but this time it was only so he could give Minerva a jaunty little wave before he headed off to have lunch with Luna.
That afternoon, he had a wonderful meal with his girlfriend. Where he gifted her with the silver ring he had conjured, one which had a unique pattern of twining serpents on the inside. Additionally, Harry received a note from Albus, asking him to visit the headmaster's office the next night at eight. The young wizard used his free time to his advantage after lunch, traveling to the Sorting Hat's room.
There, he met Fawkes and the wonderful Hat. He was also introduced to the crazy portrait of Merlin, an action which caused him to laugh somewhat hysterically for five minutes. Much to the bemusement of Hogwarts and Fawkes and to the confusion of the poor painted man. Luckily though, Merlin didn't take offense; he merely shrugged the incident off, thinking the other man to be slightly touched in the head.
Afterwards, Harry finally got down to business discussing his plans for bring back the other Founders, Voldemort's probable attack on Hogwarts, and Bellatrix's plea for help. The Hat, phoenix, and castle took the news quite well, commenting in all the right places and further helping him iron out details. After an hour, they had clearly planned out way of bringing the other Founders to the appropriate place and time, the very room they were currently occupying a week from Friday afternoon. They had additionally decided that Fawkes was to distract Albus while their little meeting was going on. Not only that, but the phoenix was to deliver a message to Bellatrix as soon as their discussion was finished, hopefully soliciting a response from the witch.
Hogwarts, on the other hand, was going to start increasing her defenses with the help of Dom, Luna, Harry, and the others later on and brainstorming on creating a few surprises. As for the Sorting Hat… well, it got the easiest and safest job of all. Or maybe the opposite. It was to tutor Harry in all the branches of magic that he felt he needed to work on. So basically everything, starting with Divination and then on to working on the young wizard's homework.
It was from this, that Harry also finally managed to solve the longstanding and nearly forgotten mystery of his Outstanding OWL in Divination. As Fawkes and the Hat had explained it, Madam Marchbanks had been thoroughly unimpressed by his palmistry and his crystal ball skills. But less than an hour after the test, Griselda had answered the door to her rooms only to be met by a dripping wet and thoroughly soaked fourth-year, the unfortunate student having met Peeves on his way. The boy was to bring her immediately to the headmistress' office.
Afterwards, Griselda began to consider the other statements Harry had made to her, particularly the pronouncement that she should have died the previous Tuesday. It was then that Madam Marchbanks had recalled an incident where her pet Kneazle had prevented her from eating a sampling of chocolates sent to her by Lucius Malfoy. After she thought about it, the witch had remembered that they had appeared a bit off color. So it had been a somewhat shaken examiner that had rethought the young wizard's OWL score for Divination, giving him an Outstanding.
All in all, it was a somewhat tired Harry Potter, who stumbled out of the Sorting Hat's room roughly five hours later with all of his homework caught up. Not that there was that much or that it was hard with his returned memories. And new Divination information seeping into his brain, plans and plots swirling in his thoughts.
Hogwarts, Sixth Year Gryffindor Boys' Dorm: The Same Day (Late Night)
Harry was having a most wonderful dream involving Luna, the Room of Requirement, and marmalade when his senses suddenly registered a presence. Hogwarts sent out a warning. The Phoenix Gate warmed unexpectedly, and a hand shook him awake. His reaction was instantaneous. He was out of bed, his wand in hand with his other hand on his disturber's chest and the boy now on Harry's bed. Belatedly, the reborn Slytherin noticed that it was Neville's uncertain face staring up at him, and he released his friend with an apology.
"Oh, Neville. I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, pulling the other teenager to his feet.
Neville shrugged. "That's alright, Harry. I only came to check on you because I thought you were having a nightmare. You kept making strange sounds."
Harry's eyebrow rose at the last statement, wondering how the other wizard could possibly know that. He had cast a Silencing charm on his curtains, just in case he really did have a nightmare and screamed in his sleep. Green eyes glanced around the room, confirming his earlier estimation that the rest of his roommates were asleep. His gaze drifted back to Neville, and he silently asked Hogwarts if his charm was still up. She wordlessly sent back an affirmative.
'Now this is unexpected,' the reborn Slytherin thought, noticing that the other teenager was still looking at him. 'If he is already showing some of his old powers, then things are better for us than I thought. Or maybe it's the connection Hogwarts established between us.' Tentatively, Harry checked the bond with his Empathy, finding that it was a combination of the aforementioned two that had altered Neville.
Harry smiled softly and moved to sit on his bed. He waved his hand in invitation for the other to join, but Neville refused the offer.
"Thanks, my friend, but I wasn't having a nightmare," he murmured in a strange tone. "I appreciate the gesture though."
The other wizard looked at him skeptically. "So no vision?" At the other's look, he continued, "Well, the thing is, Harry, I heard you moaning in your sleep," the still round-faced young man answered with a tilt of his head.
Harry fought the urge to flush. "It wasn't a vision, Neville. It was… er… something else, he put in after a moment. "Not a nightmare," he hastened to add.
Nevertheless, Neville looked like he didn't quite believe him.
To say that Harry was mortified over the whole situation was the understatement of the century, perhaps the millennium. He did manage to hide it quite well, if he did say so himself, but Hogwarts' gleeful laughter in the back of his mind was not helping all that much. Regardless, the young man merely blinked, looking up at Neville with a faint blush on his cheeks. The reborn Slytherin was torn between the desire for the Earth to swallow him whole, the wish that the castle would mind its own bloody business, and the feeling of happiness that rose up in his chest at the other teenager's obvious concern for his well-being. Thankfully, happiness won, but it was a close thing.
"Thanks for your concern though, my friend," Harry wizard said, fighting the blush and successfully killing it.
"Are you sure it wasn't a nightmare?" Neville asked again, still not believing.
Harry nodded. "No, it wasn't. I'm perfectly fine. I promise." He heard Hogwarts give the castle equivalent of a snort.
"But you were moaning…" Neville gazed at him blankly for a second before his eyebrows rose dramatically, and his lips thinned. It actually looked like he wanted to laugh but didn't want to upset his friend. "Oh…" he muttered with understanding. He looked at Harry knowingly.
Harry's cheeks, which had managed to return to their normal color, suddenly flushed pink as his supposedly stable Occlumency shields cracked ever-so-slightly. With a smile, the other teenager backed away from his friend's bed.
"Goodnight, Harry," he inserted, lips twitching.
The still mortified Harry rubbed a hand over his face. "Goodnight, Neville." He watched as the other boy moved back to his bed. The reborn Salazar was a about to close his curtains once more, making sure that he used a stronger Silencing spell, when he heard Neville speak again.
"Sweet dreams."
Harry could have sworn that somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard Hogwarts cackle.
Hogwarts, Defense Classroom: September 4th, 1996
"I must confess, class," Professor Boyd began without preamble, crossing his arms over his chest and assuming his usual position on the corner of his desk. "I am quite disappointed in the answers I received on the review Monday."
A ripple of surprise passed through the students.
"Had this been a real assignment, over half of the class would have failed. Only four students had over seventy percent. And of those four, only one managed to get them all correct. This is basic knowledge, class." The professor exhaled then, shaking his head. "Everyone should have passed with above an eighty percent." Dominic unexpectedly reached behind him and pulled out a previously unnoticed book. It was old-looking but obviously well-cared for and in excellent condition.
The man gently opened the thick purple-black leather cover, running his fingers over the silvery runes, and turned to the first page. "According to Merlin's Compendium of Magik, Dark and Light are definitions that do not exist in nature but arose due to humans and other peoples. Further, Dark is defined as magic that is inherently powerful and gravitates towards being wilder. As a general rule, Dark is considered to be destructive. However, it can create just as easily as destroy. As Lord Merlin writes, 'Evil is neither in the Dark nor the Light but in the intent with which each is used.'"
Professor Boyd abruptly closed the book, the snap sounding through the silent room. He gazed out at them for several heartbeats, silvery eyes weighing and thoughtful.
"As you can undoubtedly guess, I am also quite surprised by your definition of Dark. Even though it was an opinion based question, only one person gave me anything near the true definition." He replaced the book on the desk and rose to his feet, eyes now blazing. "Magic, all magic – whether Dark or Light – is all about context. But even more importantly, it is about intent," the teacher enunciated the word clearly. "For example, the Killing curse is not inherently evil, no matter what the Ministry says," he admonished softly, already guessing the vehement denials he was about to receive.
The entire class gaped at him in a dead silence at the statement before Seamus suddenly shouted, "What?"
Murmurs of agreement broke out.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor quieted them with a single glance, his jaded face taking on a hard edge. "It is true, I assure you. The Killing curse is not evil nor is the person who casts it. The evil is in the intent. The curse is meant to deliver death. Yes, that is true, but it all depends on context," he stated slowly, emphasizing each word carefully. "The Killing curse can be used for a mercy killing; did you know that?" he asked, already deducing the answer. "In fact, there are several documented cases where it was used for just that, for mercy to end suffering. In those instances, the caster used it to help a loved one end their life, often because they suffered from a disease or perhaps even another curse."
"But, sir," Susan Bones interrupted, "doesn't a person have to actually mean it?"
Professor Boyd nodded slowly. "To successfully cast this curse, a person must honestly want to bring death to another, but still, that does not mean that the magic or they are evil. They simply want someone to die. Yet, as I said, it can still be for mercy. Or it can be used for defense. The caster simply has to mean it."
"For defense?" Dean put in incredulously.
"Yes, defense, Mr. Thomas." The teacher studied the Gryffindor carefully, causing the boy to squirm under the intense scrutiny. "Tell me, Mr. Thomas," he inserted smoothly, a predatory cast to his face, "if you were to find someone attacking your friends, your family. If you were to find them harming those you loved with the intent to kill them, would you not fight back, defend your family?"
Dean hesitated for a moment but nodded.
"And if their attacker was going to kill them. If he – or she – would not stop no matter what," the professor went on, his gaze boring into his pupil, "would you not kill them? Would you not use lethal force, if it was the only way to save those you love?"
The dark-skinned boy merely gaped at him as did the rest of the class, Harry included. However, Dean didn't reply to his teacher. His silence was answer enough.
Professor Boyd finished, a look of concentration on his face, "Then, you would defend with intent to kill. And as such, you would be quite capable of using Avada Kedavra effectively."
A shiver ran through the class at the use of the curse's true name.
Dominic didn't seem to notice. "Then, why not use the Killing curse to protect them? It is quick, clean, painless, not to mention very efficient." His gaze once more traveled around the room. "Tell me, Mr. Thomas, you are Muggleborn, correct?"
Dean nervously nodded his head. "Er… yes."
"What if it was Death Eaters attacking your family then? Would you use the Killing curse? I can assure you that, if you did, you would be showing far more mercy to them than they will ever show to your kin or you."
Pansy Parkinson spoke with horror, "But the Killing curse is illegal, Professor!"
"Yes, yes, it is," Professor Boyd conceded with merriment, obviously confusing most of the class with the emotion. "And why is that exactly, Miss Parkinson? After all, there are other spells that are just as lethal and far more torturous."
"I…" she began but faltered. Her eyes flickered to Millicent and Blaise, wordlessly asking for help.
However, the other Slytherins shrugged.
"I don't know, sir."
"Hm…" The teacher once more crossed his arms and tapped his chin. His eyes traveled around the room, momentarily meeting Harry's and the vampire gave a mental wink.
"Let us take an example from the review then: Aestuo Sangre, Caput Abrumpo, and Tripudio Obstrepo. The first two are curses specifically designed to kill and to inflect terrible pain while doing so. One is a hex that gradually boils the victim's blood, while the other slowly decapitates. And yet, the last – a relatively harmless spell considering the other two – is the Dark one." Dominic paused, considering.
All of the students were complete quiet, hanging on his every word. And his focus swept across the room.
"Did you know that the Tripudio Obstrepo carries an automatic sentence of ten years in Azkaban?" Professor Boyd asked rhetorically. "You cast this, and you will go to one of the worst places on Earth. You cast this, a simple Tap-dancing curse, and you will spend a decade with the Dementors." He let his statement sink in. "Yet, you cast Aestuo Sangre and kill someone with it, and nothing will happen. You will go to the Ministry, answer questions, and then, you will go home at the end of the day. No trial, no prison, no punishment of any kind. All because one is Dark and the other Light, and it is not the deadly one that is forbidden."
The class simply gawked at him. Seamus even had his mouth hanging open, while Dean shivered involuntarily. The Slytherins simply exchanged knowing looks, and Blaise nudged his desk-mate Millicent, the pair attempting to stop Pansy from trembling. Malfoy's eyes flickered instantly to Hermione, a nameless something passing between them when their gazes locked.
Meanwhile, Harry fought the urge to smirk as Dom was slowly eroding away the ideal that Dark was evil. The vampire was doing something he so desperately wanted to do himself, and he would eventually, adding to what the professor had already started.
After several moments of quiet, whispers began to break out among the students.
"But why?" Blaise Zabini murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular.
Yet, everyone still heard him.
The professor smiled, and it was a dangerous think. "That is the thousand Galleon question, Mr. Zabini."
From the side, Hermione inclined her head and slowly raised her hand. For the past few minutes, she had been quietly considering the puzzle. And now, she wanted to add to the discussion.
"Yes, Miss Granger."
"The Killing curse is illegal with few exceptions, correct?" Hermione put in with an ever-growing amount of awe in her voice; this lesson was not what she had expected at all. At the professor's nod, she went on, "If there are so many other ways that are meant to kill people, and in much more painful ways, why aren't they also illegal?"
The teacher raised his eyebrows. "Another excellent question and one I do not have an answer for. Honestly, I do not know, Miss Granger. And if you do or if you can ever reason it out, then you are far wiser than I." He paused for a moment before continuing, "In all honesty, most of the Ministry laws regarding Dark Arts do not center on spells that are necessarily destructive or deadly in nature, but rather spells with which previous Ministry employees had bad experiences and wished to do away with."
The students looked at him in disbelief. The professor merely shrugged it off.
"It is true, I can assure you. If you do not believe me, then look it up. It is all there in the Ministry logs, the ones dealing with classification of spells. The reasons for the ban are listed with each spell." Professor Boyd rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "For instance and going back to an earlier example, Tripudio Obstrepo is a forbidden spell because in 1776 the then-Minister, Nicodemus Cromwell, was hexed with this spell by an American wizard. The man in question refused to lift the curse, so Minister Cromwell – who was quite incompetent and who could not remove it himself – was forced to tap-dance through the corridors of the Ministry until he found someone to remove it." The teacher actually grinned then, as though he were remembering. But that was silly because he couldn't have possibly been there.
"As you may well guess," he finally added, "Cromwell was infuriated and quite humiliated, so he had the spell moved to the list of banned Dark Arts." Professor Boyd frowned at the continuing shock he seemed to be receiving from his students. His gaze darted around the room before landing on Harry.
The young wizard in question only had a mental wink as a warning before the professor spoke to him.
"You have been rather quiet today, Mr. Potter. If I am to believe what the other professors have told me, I would have thought you to make a comment by now." The vampire quietly stepped into the aisle between desks and approached the young man.
Harry tilted his head at the remark and gazed at the man. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was being set up.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I didn't feel my opinions needed to be voiced at the time."
From beside him, he heard Hermione snort, while the other students watched the exchange with mounting interest.
"Really? And what is your opinion on our little discussion, Mr. Potter?" Professor Boyd asked.
Yes, the vampire was most definitely setting him up for something. Harry tried to determine Dom's aim by reaching with his senses, but the other man's shields were too strong for him to get a measure of what was going on.
Yet, a mental "Just play along" was enough for the young wizard to continue.
"The discussion?" Harry seemed to ponder the question for a moment. "Well, I think that banning certain spells is a good idea, but they don't seem to ban any magic worth forbidding. But then, you get into the argument of deciding what is dangerous and what isn't, so it all turns into a giant mess. After all, you can kill someone with a well placed Tickling charm, so how are you to decide what should be illegal?"
The class turned to look at him incredulously.
However, the teacher merely smiled. "That is quite true, Mr. Potter. The charm is designed to affect nerves," he explained gently. "As everyone here undoubtedly knows, a direct jolt to certain nerves can, for lack of a better word, short them out. You hit a certain nerve. And that, as they say, is that. Instant and painful death." Professor Boyd let off an ironic laugh. "Not to mention that you can kill someone with something as simple as a Reductor spell or a Severing charm. Nevertheless, getting back to what Mr. Potter mentioned earlier, it is rather difficult to decide what is dangerous and what is not. Once again, it all depends upon context. Simple and normally straightforward spells can become deadly in the wrong hands."
The teacher paused in his speech and walked back to the front of the room so that he would be facing the entire group. Yet, this time, he did not sit on his desk. He merely watched them instead for several long minutes.
"And that, class, brings me to my most important point of this lesson or possibly even the whole year." Professor Boyd gave his trademark smile. "I am renaming this course. From now on, it will be Defense. Simply Defense. I will teach you to face anything, to be able to protect yourselves and your families from everything: Dark Arts, Light magic, creatures, beings, zombies, Veela, vampires, werewolves, witches, wizards, centaurs,
Goblins. Anything and everything."
The class shivered at his last statement, but the look of determination on his face spoke volumes. The professor would make sure that they would be able to do just that.
Cornwall, Gryffin's Nest: Spring, 953 A.D.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Sal? There is no turning back once we do. It's for forever," Godric Gryffindor stated, resting his hand on the shoulder of a dark-haired teenager.
Salazar nodded. "I don't think I have ever been as sure as this before," he commented with a wink. "I want this, and I know you do as well," he added, but a sad shadow crossed over his face. "It has not been the same since Solaris died. It feels as though I have no family," he whispered, putting his hand up to halt the denying statement his friend was about to make. He gave the other male a sad smile.
"No, it's true. I felt as though I had no proper family. You and Row have been great; you're like my brother and sister, and Helga has been like a cross between a favorite aunt and a mother." He paused then, trying to collect his thoughts. "But the thing is… you have been like my family. I mean, you are my family. Yet, at the same time, you're not." He sighed before continuing, "I know it's silly, but I feel as though there is nothing holding us together--"
"But there are things that bind us together," the blond interrupted. "Friendship… love," he added with a playful grimace.
The teenager shook his head. "I know that, but we aren't connected like most families. Rowena is your cousin, and Helga is your mother's youngest sister. We, you and me, aren't related by blood." He paused before correcting himself, "Well, we are. But it is so distant as to not matter."
Godric simply stared at him for a moment, a strange gleam in his golden eyes. Then, he did something completely unexpected. He laughed.
"Salazar, Salazar," he chuckled. "Don't be daft!" He moved to place his other hand on the teenager's free shoulder, squeezing gently. "You'll one day learn, my friend, that there are many types of connections for families. That of blood and flesh happens to be the weakest."
"I know that it's not supposed to matter," the younger wizard replied loftily. "Yet, I just can't help thinking this way." He glanced to the floor, refusing to meet the other's eyes.
Godric studied him for a moment, his face softening. "It doesn't matter that there is no blood. We're brothers still and always will be." He playfully mussed Salazar's dark hair, all but destroying his ponytail and making the younger male scowl at him in annoyance. "But alas, I can still see your point. I hate that you feel this way, but you can't help how you feel. And I can't blame you for it either. I know that you fear that you will lose us, which you won't, but you still want insurance--"
"Which is why you offered to… er… adopt me," Sal put in helpfully, finally looking up, and his eyes sparkled with noticeable excitement. "That is why we are going to mix our blood and magic."
"It's actually more of a mutual adoption, really. I become your brother; you become mine." Godric stated with great emphasis, "And that is not the only reason. I offered because I wanted it to be permanent. I wanted the whole world to know that you are family."
Green eyes blinked. "You wanted them to know that we are family, that you love me," he whispered with thinly veiled hope. He reached with his senses and could instantly feel the older man's pride and affection for him.
Twenty-two-year-old Godric Gryffindor grinned brightly and answered with all the honesty he can muster, "Yes, yes… I do. I've always wanted a sibling," he said, squeezing the teenager's shoulder once more.
Salazar smiled and finally moved to fix his hair after noticing the man snicker at it. "And now, you will have one," he added after a moment. He sniggered at the thought, silently suggesting that the blond had no idea what he was getting into.
However, the Godric merely grinned and ruffled the restored ponytail. "Perhaps I had one all long; I am just making sure that everyone else knows about it."
Aestuo Sangre: Blood Boil. Verbal and non-verbal. Causes the blood of the victim to boil.
Caput Abrumpo: Decapitation. Verbal and non-verbal. Decapitates the victim.
Tripudio Obstrepo: Tap-dancing. Verbal and non-verbal. Forces the recipient to tap dance until the spell is lifted.
AN: I wonder how many of you saw that one coming. Might I direct you to a line from the Sorting Hat's song: Brothers in everything but name. I meant that literally. They adopted each other by magic and blood but kept their original names. Further, to explain how everyone is related: Godric's mother was by birth a Hufflepuff, but she changed her name when she married. Helga kept her maiden name, and Edmund took her name for reasons that aren't really important. Rowena is a distant cousin; she is about as closely related to Godric as Sirius is to Draco Malfoy.
Things to consider: Snape feels strangely for the reason as does Minerva. The fact that Neville could hear through the Silencing spell will come into play later as will his OWL scores. Salazar's blood adoption and connection to Godric is incredibly important. Also, remember that by virtue of the adoption, Siobhan was Gryffindor's sister-in-law and Tristan was his nephew, which means that he could actually carry on the Gryffindor line.
To everyone who reviewed: Thanks!
Special thanks to Hobbit-Tabby for the beta and to Our Catholic Faith (online) for the Latin translation.
Chapter Twenty-One: Before the Plunge
Ever Hopeful,
Azar
Updated and Edited:
06/10/08
