The first two weeks of term passed uneventfully, at least if you didn't count the very noticeable absence of Hermione from every class Harry and Ron were in. It took Harry by surprise how often he found himself turning to look for his friend only to remember that she wouldn't be ready to take whatever class he was in for a long time yet. It was the driving force behind his motivation to get his lesson plan for Hermione worked out.

Another motivation was to take his mind off of what Snape was doing to one of Harry's favourite classes. The way Snape talked about the Dark Arts sent shivers running down Harry's spine. The former Potions Master's voice would take on an unmistakable longing when he spoke about the various harms magic could do to people and it worried Harry.

Defence classes were actually made more difficult to endure by the fact that Harry had been practicing all summer. That he had managed to cast a non-verbal shield on the first try appeared to have left Snape absolutely livid and had promptly cost Gryffindor 30 points 'for being an arrogant show-off'.

Harry and Ron took great pleasure in reminding each other that a year of teaching Defence at Hogwarts tended to leave a witch or wizard's life in ruins.

While Snape was ruining Defence with his petty nature, one thing Harry couldn't claim was that the man was being unfair in the amount of work he was piling on his sixth years. All of the professors had apparently come to the conclusion that they had been far too lenient in their demands over the past five years.

Harry and Ron had hours of homework to get through every night and it did not take them long to realise what a blow Hermione's absence could end up being to their marks, even if Harry couldn't join Ron in complaining about it. Both boys gritted their teeth and bulled their way through the work though.

Harry couldn't be sure how similar Ron's motivations might be to his own, but he was determined that he would make the Hermione he remembered proud, become a good teacher for the Hermione that existed now and, above all, that he would learn anything that gave him a better shot at making Riddle pay for what he had done.

One crucial part of that was Harry's continued occlumency lessons with Dumbledore. The Headmaster had sent Harry a note at the end of the first week of term asking him to visit. Harry had found the older wizard in his office, looking far frailer than he had at any point during the summer.

"Ah, Harry, good of you to come."

"Are you alright, sir?"

"I am recovering, but that process is not so fast as it was in my youth. But I did not call you here to tell you about the blights of old age. I believe that it is time we take up your lessons again, at least once a week. I do not doubt, after all, that you are eager to join your fellows in making Hogsmeade a lot livelier on the weekends when you can." Amazingly, Dumbledore appeared to have absolutely no recollection of what had happened to injure him and Harry wasn't going to dig to deeply into the question, lest he trigger another stay in the hospital.

So, every Friday evening, Harry now went to Dumbledore's office and worked on shoring up his mental defences. Dumbledore assured him that he was making excellent progress, but the only barometer Harry had was that he hadn't had any particularly odd nightmares so far this year, which was less than conclusive evidence in his mind.

The two wizards had also discussed the ongoing mission Dumbledore had given Harry. Not that there was much to discuss. Harry hadn't had enough time to truly get close to Slughorn, but the returned professor had already invited him to a 'soirée', which Harry had accepted. The only detail to be discussed was that Harry had to order new dress robes from Gladrags' to fit in with the mood that they guessed Slughorn was going for.

Aside from their classes, Ron and Harry had their duties as prefect and Quidditch captain respectively. Ron was responsible for making sure that the new girls' prefect, Lavender Brown, was up to speed on her responsibilities. Harry felt it was unfair to Hermione that she had lost her badge on top of everything else, even if he could understand why it might be too much to ask of her right now.

Harry for his part had to rebuild nearly the entire team after last year's graduation had taken both Beaters and two Chasers. He organised try-outs, trying to enjoy the escape from the war that it offered and mostly succeeding. Despite the massive amount of people who had shown up with no apparent desire to take the try-out seriously, Harry felt that he had ended up with a good team.

Ron had wiped the floor with the competition at the Keeper position, especially that McClaggan bloke who was always smarming about where Slughorn could notice him. Apparently the prick had said something about Hermione that Ron wasn't willing to repeat and it had earned him unbeatable competition in the form of furiously focused Weasley. Harry wasn't sorry that his mate had embarrassed the other Gryffindor.

Katie had been equally untouchable by the Chaser hopefuls, though Ginny had come a convincing second and her dormmate Demelza Robins had been exceptional as well. Two third-years, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, had been the best among the new Beaters, though Harry could honestly admit that they had a long way to go before they could fill Fred and George's shoes.

Between classes, homework, practices and writing those lesson plans, Harry felt almost guilty when he sat down with Hermione to work out when they could meet for her tutoring sessions. They ended up being unable to find more times than two hours on Wednesday evenings and, after a bit of back and forth, four hours on any Saturday that didn't have a Quidditch match on.

The sense of relief that Harry felt upon working out this schedule wore thin quickly as his first lesson with Hermione drew closer. It resulted in him sitting in the common room, nervously looking through his plans one last time, right before he was supposed to go out and meet up with her.

He desperately wanted to restore some level of friendship with Hermione, or at least convince her that they didn't have to dislike each other and the fastest way to offend Gryffindor's resident genius would be to give her shoddy lessons.

He was so absorbed in checking that he hadn't missed anything in his plan, that Harry didn't notice that someone had come up to him until he heard a throat being cleared. Looking up in surprise, he found Hermione standing in front of him. "Um, Potter?"

"Hermione?" Is she about to tell me that she's changed her mind?

Hermione looked uncomfortable. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally got a word out. "I don't know where to go. Ron told me about this Room That's Required or whatever, but, um, I don't- I've never seen a tapestry with dancing trolls. Well, not that I can remember anyway."

Harry was so relieved that he hadn't lost his chance to spend some time with her that he couldn't help but smile at her. "It's about time for the lesson anyway, isn't it? C'mon, I'll show you the way." He shot to his feet and grabbed her hand, pulling her along towards the portrait hole.

He didn't see the way his one-time best friend blushed as she stared at the hand that was pulling her along.

Harry led Hermione across the castle to the Room of Requirement and opened it up for her. The sight of her mouth dropping open as she took in the classroom he had created for her brought a satisfied smile to his face. "Ready to begin?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes flashed over to his, full of determination. "Ready when you are, Professor."

Harry felt like he'd been slapped as he watched Hermione sit down at the only desk in the room and set out her note-taking materials. "Um, Hermione? You do realise that you don't need to call me 'Professor', right? I mean, I'm not an actual teacher." And you're supposed to see me as a friend…

Hermione fixed him with the kind of stubborn glare he'd seen when she'd started up S.P.E.W. "You said you'd teach me; that makes you a teacher."

"Yeah, but… 'professor'?"

"If you're teaching me, I should address you with respect," Hermione sniffed, her tone screaming out that she wasn't going to budge on this. "So what spell are we learning first?"

Harry thought that he could see her almost vibrating in anticipation. "We're not."

"What?!"

"The first thing you need to learn about Defence is the mindset, not the tools," Harry told her. "I can teach you any number of spells, but if you don't know how to apply them, it isn't Defence."

"But-…"

"We'll still get to at least one spell today, I promise," Harry interrupted wryly, "we just need to set your foundation first."

Hermione's glare didn't inspire much confidence, but Harry was determined to do this right. I'm at the very least going to try to teach her things that will make sure she's never hurt like this again. "Right, the reason Hogwarts gives a class on Defence at all is that the magical world can be more dangerous than the non-magical, just through sheer unpredictability. If a spell goes wrong people rarely know what it's going to do beforehand. Add to that magical creatures that never really evolved to live side by side with wizards squeezed into secrecy with us and the fact that, much like a hammer, a wand can be a weapon as well as a tool, and it becomes necessary for you to know how to get yourself out of a sticky situation."

Much as she might have wanted to mistrust his approach, Hermione had started writing notes as soon as Harry had started lecturing. He continued on, outlining how it was impossible to know the perfect spell for every situation and that it was better to know a few broadly applicable spells and really have them mastered. Throughout it all he kept emphasizing that the purpose of these spells in a situation where they might be used for Defence was to get you out of that situation and that running away was a perfectly acceptable, even preferable, response to finding yourself faced with trouble. "Too many of our classmates study this expecting to learn how to fight; that just closes your mind to more important possibilities. Now, on to some actual magic."

Hermione's face lit up and she leant forward a bit more.

"What is more important than knowing even a broadly applicable spell?" Harry asked her as he drew his wand.

"Um…" Hermione frantically flipped through her notes, "having a mindset that allows you to escape, Professor."

Harry felt something twitch in his face when Hermione called him that, but forced himself not to get distracted. "True, but not what I meant. I was talking about the skills that are basic to casting spells. Accuracy for one; if you can't hit what you're aiming at, you might as well not be casting. Casting speed for another; if you can't get the spell off in time, it won't help you either."

Hermione's quill was scratching across the parchment at lightning speeds, so Harry waited for her to finish. When her focus turned back to him, he smiled. "Right, I'll teach you the Paint Projectile Charm. Are you familiar with the concept of 'paintball'?"

"I've heard of it…" Hermione allowed dubiously.

"Well, that, but magically." Harry saw Hermione physically biting her lip to keep her mouth shut. "You know that you're allowed to ask questions, right?"

"Professor, I just don't see how throwing around bits of paint could help in getting me out of trouble."

Harry nodded as he ordered his thoughts. "It's not the most broadly useful charm, I admit, but it's one that's easy to learn, it's a good spell to learn basic aim with since it has about as simple a wand movement as you're going to get and it makes it easy to see how close to the target you are with your aim."

"Shouldn't we at least do that with a spell that can be used in a Defence situation though?"

Harry raised his own wand and tapped himself on his head. The sensation of a warm egg running down his neck and Hermione's shocked gasp told him that his Disillusionment Charm had been successful. He walked quietly around Hermione's desk so he was standing a few feet behind her. He could see the way she was looking back and forth trying to figure out where he was. "If you tagged me with a paintball as I was casting, I wouldn't be able to hide from you. If you hit me in the eye with a paintball I wouldn't be able to find you."

Hermione leapt to her feet, sending her chair skittering back. "Professor?"

Harry cancelled his charm. "While there are spells that aren't applicable in many situations, there are very few spells that are not useful in any situation. This is why I wanted you to understand that your mindset is what matters most."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, keeping her eyes on him as if to make sure that he wasn't about to disappear again. "Yes, Professor."

"You don't need to call me that," Harry said once more, hoping he didn't sound defeated already. "Let's get to the spell. Here's the wand movement." Harry demonstrated the twisting jab and was unsurprised to see Hermione copy it flawlessly. "Excellent. Now the incantation: Pigmomentum."

Hermione repeated the incantation dutifully. Harry nodded at her in approval, quickly closed his eyes to focus on the room. When he opened them again the room had lengthened and a bullseye had appeared at the far end. "Okay, Hermione, let's see how well you do."

Hermione stepped up to the line that had appeared on the floor. "Pigmomentum!" Her first shot glanced the outside of the target. Harry saw surprise flit across her face before her jaw set in determination. "Pigmomentum! Pigmomentum! Pigmomentum!" she cried over and over.

Harry considered commenting on the fact that she didn't need to yell the incantation. No, let her work on accuracy first. We can move on to the casting volume when she's got this down. Who knows, I might even be able to give her a head start on non-verbal casting. "Okay, Hermione, let's see how you did," Harry called out.

Hermione lowered her wand, still glaring at the target. With a thought from Harry the target raced forward until it was close enough for them to touch. "Looks like you developed a fairly tight grouping at the end there… nice aim too. How'd it feel?"

Hermione considered the question. "Well, it was quite different from what Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick have me doing… not that that's a bad thing!"

"Calm down, Hermione. I don't feel like I need to compete with actual teachers. You can be critical," Harry tried to reassure her, even if he couldn't stop a slight frown. Maybe I should have talked to McGonagall and Flitwick first. Why didn't I think of that before?

"No, that's not-… they put whatever I'm casting at on the desk in front of me so I haven't had to think about accuracy before. You're teaching me long range casting and I just feel a little silly that I hadn't considered it before." Hermione was almost out of breath when she finished her protest.

"I hadn't actually thought of it like that," Harry admitted feeling like a bit of an idiot himself now. "They don't teach speed-casting, spell chaining or how to hit a moving target either, do they? I'll try to keep it in mind for when we get to those things."

Hermione's throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously.

"Don't worry about it for now. In the lesson plan I worked out I was hoping to introduce all that gradually," Harry rushed to reassure her. He waited for her to nod in acknowledgement before he turned back to the target. "Scourgify. Let's see if you can hit the bullseye in one go this time."

Hermione went through the exercise twice more before Harry called a stop. "That's enough, Hermione."

"What? No! Professor, I can do better!"

Harry wondered how he hadn't seen this coming given what he knew of his friend's perfectionist nature. "Hermione, it's not going to be good for your other classes if you tire yourself out on a single lesson here. You can try this again next time, okay?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to protest but just nodded instead. "What about my homework, professor?"

Harry felt caught off guard by the question. Homework! How could I have forgotten that Hermione would expect to do homework?! "Um, no homework for today. You might spend some time thinking about how the spells you're learning in your other courses could be used to get you away from various threats. Maybe a plant, an animal and another person?"

Hermione made a note in her planner. She packed up her notes and books and placed them into her book bag. "So…? Same place on Wednesday?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry answered, trying to hide how pleased he was that Hermione apparently thought enough of his teaching style that she was already planning on coming back for more.

"Alright. Goodbye, Professor," Hermione called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room.

"You don't have to call me that," Harry said to the closing door. He flopped down into the comfy chair that had just appeared behind him. What am I doing? Am I even going to be able to keep this up for a full year?

Unfortunately, even his own mind wouldn't let him take as long as he might have liked to recover from the experience of teaching Hermione. I still have to go to Slughorn's party or whatever he's calling it. Up and at 'em, Potter. You still have a job to do.

Wishing he could delay the inevitable, or even skive off entirely, Harry forced himself to leave the Room and make his way to his dorm to get ready for an evening of forced conversations.

:-:-:-:-:

Slughorn's party turned out to be just as bad as Harry had feared. He wasn't in the room for five minutes when he had been cornered by a man who introduced himself as Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet. Harry would just as soon have nothing to do with that publication ever again, but forced himself to be polite. If I can convince him to at least ease up on the attacks he's been putting out for the past year then that'll already be a win for our side. It'd give us some breathing room at least.

Harry hated having to think like that. He hated that he agreed with Dumbledore that it was necessary. Even if Cuffe hadn't held such sway over public opinion, they couldn't afford to do anything that might alienate Slughorn.

"I have heard that Professor Dumbledore has taken you into his confidence, sees you as an apprentice even. Has that given you any particular insights into the man who once held so many prestigious positions?"

Harry smiled politely at the man. "I'm not sure where you heard that, Mr. Cuffe, but I doubt Professor Dumbledore sees me as anything more than a student. One among many."

"After that ruckus at the Ministry several months ago he has done nothing to bring you into his confidence? Given the recent, ah, claims the two of you have been making, it would be strange for him not to have approached you, wouldn't you say?"

Harry did his best not to force memories of Sirius out of his mind before they could swamp him. "I have heard relatively little about that? Is the Ministry coming around to the idea that the damage was caused by Death Eaters then?"

Cuffe's face was unreadable. "The body of a known Death Eater was found in the Chamber of Death. I hear the Hall of Prophecy was also hard hit."

"Hall of Prophecy?" Harry asked, trying to sound politely confused. In the privacy of his mind he was trying to work out whether Cuffe's words meant that some people in the Ministry were beginning to come around or whether they were blaming Sirius as a convicted Death Eater.

"An area of the Ministry of Magic where Fate is studied. Do you believe in Fate, Mister Potter?"

"Surely if it's being researched there, what I believe doesn't really matter? You could just go there and ask them what they've found. The people who work there would definitely know more about it than I do," Harry replied. His breathing had become more deliberate as he was trying to use occlumency to keep his knowledge of exactly what Riddle had been looking for away from his consciousness and hopefully out of his reactions.

Cuffe opened his mouth, doubtlessly to ask another question in this interview by another name, but he was interrupted before he could form the words.

"Ah, Harry, m'boy, just the man I was hoping to see!"

Harry forced himself to keep a pleasant expression as he turned to face his Potions teacher, not wanting to show irritation or concern in front of either man. "Good evening, Professor. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh, just a small inquiry, a trifle really. Do you mind if I borrow the lad for a moment, Barnabas?"

"Of course not, Horace," Cuffe said, looking like he dearly wanted to punch the other man in the moustache. "I hope there will be an opportunity for us to continue this conversation soon, Mr. Potter."

"Likewise, Mr. Cuffe," Harry said, keeping his smile frozen firmly to his lips as the man left. He didn't have time to gather himself as a pudgy arm was slung over his shoulder and Slughorn pulled him slightly away from the other guests.

"Harry, Harry, Harry…" Slughorn began, almost bouncing with cheerful energy. "You left me quite the tantalising little riddle when we met over the summer, m'boy."

"Sir?"

"Don't you remember? You told me that the most intelligent student for the past five years running was a muggleborn. I believe that I have the answer, m'boy, but of course I just had to see if there wasn't some hidden gem I may have overlooked."

"Of course, sir," Harry said politely.

"You were talking about Miss Hermione Granger, weren't you?" Slughorn said gleefully, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

"Not much of a riddle, is it?" Harry asked with a smile that felt more genuine than any other he'd put on that night.

"A rare find, m'boy, a rare find indeed. Though I do worry whether she will be able overcome the setback she's suffered. Truly, an undeserved tragedy."

You don't know the half of it. "I'm not worried, sir. Hermione has enough brains to overtake the rest of us by the end of the year and leave us behind by the time we graduate."

Harry could see a hint of pure calculation behind Slughorn's jovial façade, though it was gone a moment later. "I was wondering if she should be included in our little soirees, m'boy, I'll tell you true, but I had worried that she would… have difficulty keeping pace with the company."

Harry snorted at the very idea. "You've been teaching her, sir. Could you tell me she doesn't pick things up several times faster than the rest of your students?"

"Hmm, I'd forgotten that you are also one of her teachers. For Defence if I'm not mistaken?"

Harry didn't think there was a chance that the Potions teacher had really forgotten, but he was unsure where this conversation was going. "Tutor, not teacher, sir. I'm just filling in since Professor Snape doesn't have the time."

Slughorn stroked his moustache and nodded sagely. "Yes, poor Severus never did see the point in cultivating personal relationships. I tell you true, m'boy: his natural sense for potions outstrips yours, but you are considerably further along in terms of your sense for people."

Huh… never thought I'd hear that one. "Thank you, sir."

Slughorn patted Harry's shoulder with a satisfied grin. "Now then, about Miss Granger: would she respond better to an invitation from you or from me?"

Harry gave it some honest thought. "Probably from you, sir."

"Excellent, excellent," Slughorn murmured. "Still, do try to help her along if she does come to one of our little get-togethers, hmm? After all, that's what they're all about: helping each other."

"Of course, sir." Harry doubted that Hermione would really need any help finding something to do in a room full of people who were experts in their respective fields. Besides, I'd have kept an eye on her even if I wasn't asked. I just hope I'll be able to teach her how to face worse dangers than these leeches.

:-:-:-:-:

Hermione sat in a place she was sure she must have spent a lot of time in before she lost every recollection of it: the Hogwarts library. Unfortunately, she must also have spent a lot of time learning here if it had been caught up in that madman's spell. I still don't know what I was thinking facing up to someone like that… but I will make him regret it.

She felt a furious determination grab hold of her thoughts for a moment. A deep breath allowed the tension to pass. If I want to be any kind of a problem for someone like that, I should focus on my studies. Hermione looked down at the essay she was writing for Professor Slughorn and decided that there wasn't anything she might add. Oh, she was sure something would occur to her when she revised it, but right now she had written everything that she had been able to come up with.

Confident that the ink had dried, Hermione rolled the scroll and turned to see which subject she should tackle next. On top of her pile of books was Potter's copy of Trimble's The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. She picked it up and considered it, her thumb coming up to be caught in her teeth.

In a month of classes, Potter had never once given her any homework. In fact, when she had shown up for their second meeting with a six foot essay he had been shocked to say the least. He had gone through it with her, but made it very clear that he wasn't expecting her to hand him homework. Hermione understood that Potter probably didn't have the time to assign and mark essays given everything else he was doing, but his classes were so thoroughly focused on the practical that Hermione felt the need to read up on as much theory as she could during the hours she had initially scheduled for her Defence homework.

The habit had allowed her to ask Potter some questions during class, just to make sure that he really knew what he was talking about. To her surprise, her youngest professor appeared to know the theory inside and out; he just saw it as secondary to practical ability.

To be fair he has started giving more theory since I've started asking questions Hermione thought to herself as she idly leafed through the book. It wasn't the only way Harry Potter had surprised the young witch.

After five full years of never once interacting with each other, Hermione had developed an image of the saviour of the Wizarding World that was aloof and distant and uninterested in his peers. She couldn't recall him ever stepping into the spotlight or boasting or bullying, but neither could she recall him interacting much with anyone besides Ron.

Having the famous Boy Who Lived as her professor had gradually allowed her to see another side of him. Or perhaps I'm just looking at him for the first time…

Potter had shown her nothing but kind consideration. He seemed to want to earnestly prepare her for whatever she might face, whether that be the pale face that haunted her nightmares or the exams that haunted her other nightmares. In the course of their lessons together, Hermione had come to realise that what she had once considered a cold indifference, was really shyness and an insecurity about dealing with the fame he'd never wanted. He's nothing like I thought he'd be; nothing like what the rumours about him say.

Hermione snorted quietly in self-mockery. I sound like Lavender and Parvati. Still, she could not help but wonder at what else she might have missed in judging a book by its cover. There's no rush she decided firmly. I'm not anywhere near ready to retake my O.W.L.s and he's promised to help me prepare; that should be more than enough lessons to at least get a better idea of who he is. With a nod to herself, Hermione opened the book and began reading about the Full Body Bind that Potter had told her with a smirk they would be covering next.

:-:-:-:-:

Harry was almost shocked when Halloween decorations started appearing around the school. He hadn't realised just how much time had already passed. He and Dumbledore weren't speaking as much as they used to during the summer, hoping to fool anyone who might be looking into thinking that they really were no more familiar than the Headmaster was with any other student. Harry didn't need more frequent interaction to know that he hadn't achieved as much as Dumbledore would have hoped before the school year started.

Once the thought had occurred to him, Harry couldn't get rid of it and it stalked him throughout his day. It left him antsy to get out of any class that wasn't Potions. Admittedly the only other classes that were immune from this desire were the Defence lessons he had with Hermione, though that was for a different reason entirely. He was actually hopeful that he might be able to rebuild something that looked like friendship with her sometime over the next two years and that was as much an accomplishment as finding the memory would have been in Harry's eyes.

At the moment though, Harry was sitting in Professor McGonagall's class, waiting for her to dismiss them. He started when he heard the door to the classroom opening and looked over his shoulder to see if someone had worked up the nerve to leave before McGonagall had given her permission. He almost fell out of his seat when he saw Hermione standing there, her hands nervously wringing the strap of her bookbag.

"Miss Granger, excellent timing. You are all dismissed except for Mr. Potter; please remain," McGonagall said, her eyes landing on Harry.

He forced himself not to sigh or grumble as he sank back down into his seat, his book bag still slung over his shoulder. He chanced a glance at Hermione and saw that she had taken a seat and placed her book bag on the desk. She was eyeing McGonagall nervously. I wonder if she's debating with herself whether to take notes on whatever's about to happen?

"Mr. Weasley, stop loitering," McGonagall snapped. "I'm not about to eat your friends, so leave."

Harry looked behind him and saw Ron very clearly hanging around by the classroom door, unwilling to leave them and hoping that McGonagall hadn't noticed. With a grimace at his friends the redhead slunk out of the door. We'll probably find him hanging around in the corridor when we leave Harry thought to himself, suppressing the urge to grin. He turned his eyes back to his teacher and focused on what was happening. After all, what could McGonagall want with the two of us specifically?

Once the door to her classroom was closed, Professor McGonagall turned her stern gaze on the two teenagers left. "Mr. Potter, I have spoken to Ms. Granger about her lessons with you a few times now. Her accounts of your methods have been most interesting. I would like to commend you on the way you have approached this task and the standard to which you have apparently performed. It shames me that I have been unable to find any other tutor to take up the post so far, but I am very proud of the way you have risen to the occasion. I would also like to hear your thoughts on Miss Granger's progress."

Harry noticed that Hermione was starting to fidget. Some things never change. "She is doing well, Professor. Hermione may have forgotten what she'd already learnt, but she's as brilliant a student as ever." He turned to grin at his friend and found her staring at her desk with a furious blush and a small smile playing on her lips.

"I quite agree, Mr. Potter," McGonagall nodded with a rare smile of her own. "However, I trust that you will not take it amiss when I say that you are not an accredited teacher and that Hogwarts must do all it can to maintain its academic standard."

"No!" Hermione cried out, her head jerking up. "Professor McGonagall, I am learning so much from my classes with Professor Potter! Please let me continue to study with him!"

"Calm down, Ms. Granger. I am not suggesting that we will remove you from Mr. Potter's tuition. Rather, the staff has decided that we will regularly conduct exams to determine how your classes with Mr. Potter are progressing and whether you are on course to be able to take your Defence O.W.L. at the same time as your other courses. Simultaneously, Miss Granger, you must be aware that the staff has not stopped looking for a professional tutor for you. Talented as Mr. Potter is, it is not right that we should make such a demand on his time."

"I don't mind, Professor," Harry interjected quickly. "I enjoy the time I spend teaching Hermione and I'd also be sorry to see it end."

Hermione sagged back into her desk looking relieved. McGonagall just shook her head and turned to Harry whose discomfort at hearing Hermione and McGonagall's praise wasn't doing anything to melt the grateful smile off his face. I never knew that she felt that strongly about our classes together.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, your arrangement remain with only our examinations as alteration. Mr. Potter, you will stop by my office this Sunday morning to help me decide the contents of the first exam Ms. Granger will be administered. I will guarantee you that we will be done in time for you to attend your Quidditch practice."

Harry knew perfectly well that he wasn't being offered a suggestion. "Yes, Professor."

"Good. If you do not have any questions then you may both leave."

Harry waited for a moment to see if Hermione wanted to ask anything, but when he just found her looking back he shook his head and stood up. "I'll see you on Sunday then, Professor."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger."

The two teens left the classroom and, true to Harry's prediction, found Ron waiting for them in the hallway. "Well? What did McGonagall want?" he asked as soon as they were clear of the door.

"Professor McGonagall, Ron," Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "She told us that I will have to begin taking Defence exams to prove that I am learning enough from Potter."

"Really?" Ron asked, his voice caught between disbelief and amusement. "You're turning into a proper teacher aren't you, Harry?"

"Go soak your head," Harry retorted without heat. "They're doing it to make sure that 'Hogwarts' academic standards are maintained'."

Ron nodded sagely, the expression slightly ruined by the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "True. True. Never know if you might be a useless git at Defence since you only faced You Know Who a couple times, instead of joining him like a proper Defence Professor."

Harry snorted in wry amusement, but before he could answer Hermione had whirled around to face their friend. "It isn't funny, Ronald! I have to do well in this exam. I have to." With a final glare and huff Hermione stormed off down the corridor, leaving the two boys to trail in her wake.

"What crawled up her robes?" Ron wondered as he stared in the direction Hermione had disappeared in. "That's more than usual exam nerves from her."

"I think she's just worried because we're not a real course. At one point back there she thought her lessons might get cancelled."

"Cancelled lessons if you fail an exam?" Ron asked, his voice once again soaked in amusement. "What was all that extra homework down the years about then?"

Harry shrugged. "That was from real teachers though."

"Hmph. If she's doing it to stay out of Snape's class, I get it." He seemed to think it over for a while and added "y'know, if Hermione had ever been like that about any teacher."

Harry snorted in amusement, remembering all the times Hermione had scolded him and Ron for not referring to Snape with the proper respect. "I think she could probably do with not seeing me for a few hours then. I'd just be a reminder of her worries."

"If you need to run off for some mad lesson with Dumbledore, you could just say that you know," Ron said, sounding a bit hurt.

"It's not Dumbledore," Harry countered, a little surprised at Ron's reaction.

"Sure, but you're still going to something related to the war, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I mean, if you stretch it, I suppose that Riddle wanting me dead and me not wanting to die makes anything I learn 'something related to the war', but beyond that? No." Harry silently apologised for lying to Ron as he thought about his efforts to find a crack in Slughorn's armour.

Ron looked a little calmer, or at least he did to Harry. "So you're not learning really powerful spells?"

"Actually, not really, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "Most of the time when I'm not around, I'm in the Room, practising what I already know. A book I read over the summer said that the best way to fight is if you don't have to think about what you're doing because it's become second nature. I guess I'm trying to get to that point with at least a few spells."

"Oh…" The two boys walked in silence for a while before Ron spoke up again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know, mate. I'd honestly feel better about this whole mess if I did know how to prepare for it. For now I figure I'll do what I can. Honestly, I'm a little jealous of you in that regard."

"You are?"

"Yeah, you're Hermione's friend. You can help her. You can try to fix some part of the damage that's been done. All I'm learning is how to do more damage."

"You're the one teaching her."

"I'm teaching her stuff any stuffed shirt could. McGonagall actually came out and said that they're still looking for a real teacher to take over from me. I'm replaceable, you aren't."

"I hadn't really looked at it like that," Ron said, sounding a little stunned.

Harry gave him a sardonic smile. "No charge."

Ron grinned and punched him in the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. I'll get right on trying to fix things up with Hermione." The red-head's face abruptly turned serious. "You go train. I want you to make sure that you get seriously good at wrecking Dark Wizards. So good that this war ends and you're around for the end of it. I don't mind trying to help you out, but I can't do that if you're dead."

Harry felt his throat constrict. "Thanks, mate."

Before Harry could react Ron had grabbed him in a hug and let go again already. "I mean it, Potter. You alive, him dead."

"I'm on it."

The two friends were forced to split up as they each headed to their own destinations. Harry at least felt a bit better than he had before. If nothing else, I know that Ron and Hermione will be there for each other, even if I don't make it.

No. Me alive, him dead. That's what I need to focus on. By the time he stepped through the doors of the Room of Requirement, Harry's face was set in a mask of determination.

He spent the next several hours training relentlessly. He pushed himself harder than he had all year. Whenever his muscles trembled and part of him just wanted to drop to the floor, Harry reminded himself of Ron's words and forced himself to continue.

When he finally stopped, a Chronometer Charm told Harry that he'd missed dinner. Oddly, he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. All I want right now is my bed he thought to himself, absently massaging his hand. The pain in his palm was a sure sign that he'd been carrying too much tension while holding his wand, something Flitwick constantly warned them against.

Leaving the room, Harry began to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't just his hand; he ached all over, something that he was reminded of with every step. Still that only means that I will be all the more ready when we finally go out to find the next of those cursed objects.

The thought of horcruxes was unpleasant in the dark and silent corridors of Hogwarts at night and Harry did his best to turn his mind to something else, like how he was going to help Hermione prepare for her first exam. He came up to the portrait of the Fat Lady sooner than he'd anticipated and mumbled out the password: "Ex Libris Libertas."

"Of course, dear," the painting said with a yawn, already swinging open.

"Thanks," he answered, a yawn stretching his own jaw as he climbed into the revealed hole with a wince. The portrait closed behind him and Harry indulged in a slight stretch, trying to get some relief from his stiff muscles.

"Potter?"

He looked up to find Hermione who had clearly just shot up in surprise, one knee still resting on the window sill where he guessed she'd been sitting. A tired smile stretched his lips. "Hey, Hermione."

"Po- Harry, did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

Hermione wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "What you said to Professor McGonagall… that I'm a-… a brilliant student?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Of course. Why on earth would you think I didn't?"

He found that same smile he'd seen on her face in the Transfiguration classroom dancing on her lips again as she shook her head. "Nothing," she muttered. "I-… thank you." With that she spun around and hurried up the stairs to the girls dorm.

Harry could only shake his head. If it wasn't for the fact that I can't claim to have understood her before, I'd think that that fae had changed more than just her memories.

AN:

Pigmomentum is a portmanteau of 'pigment' and 'momentum' which summarises the central action of paintball quite well in my opinion.

That little insight into the difference between how Defence is taught compared to Charms and Transfiguration is to my mind the central reason behind it being a different discipline altogether.

The wisest of heroes was Fionn mac Cumhaill (pronounced Finn McCool). He did not start out that way. In his youth he was slower than treacle trying to flow uphill, but that changed one day. He was a servant to the poet Finegas, who hunted for the Salmon of Knowledge. The Salmon of Knowledge had gained all the world's knowledge by eating nine hazelnuts that fell into the Well of Wisdom from nine hazel trees that surrounded it and whoever first ate of the Salmon would gain that knowledge. When Finegas finally caught the Salmon he gave it to his servant to cook with a strict warning not to eat any of it. Fionn did as he was bid and began cooking it. At one point, Fionn wanted to test if the fish was done and pressed its flesh with his thumb. Some of the Salmon's fat burnt his finger and he stuck it in his mouth for relief, tasting the fish, which apparently counts under mythology rules, and gained its wisdom. From then on he could answer any question by thinking it over while gnawing his thumb down to the bone. The gnawed flesh would regrow as he slept, allowing him to do it again the next day. Irish mythology is gory and fun. Anyway that's why Hermione chews her thumb when she's thinking.