The coffee table at the teacher's lounge was packed abundantly with iced coffee, herbal tea, firewhiskey, crystalized pineapples, fudge brownies, and, most importantly, Screwdrivers.
Say what you want about Slughorn, but the man knew how to arrange a teacher's meeting.
"I have called forth this early meeting due to some... disturbing... reports we've received," Headmaster Slughorn said from his soft lounge chair, his feet plopped down on a cushy footstool.
Professor Potter sat with one leg resting over the other, sipping his Screwdriver from a silver straw. He sent a cheeky smile to Professor Longbottom on his right, who returned a queasy glance.
"Right," said Professor McGonagall crossly. "Miss Clearwater is complaining of a sharp influx of students who come to the infirmary with strange injuries. Apparently the most common reason is, I quote, surprise jinxes from invisible assailant in the hallways, though Herbology and magical beast related injuries are not far behind."
Professor Longbottom sighed, the porcelain teacup in his hand trembling slightly. "The Bubotubers have been acting very twitchy this year, they've been shooting puss at the less... gentle students... and the mandrakes are on the verge of outright rebellion," he shook his head.
"Mr. Weasley, how are things in your department?" Professor McGonagall asked.
Charlie Weasley coughed into his hand. "Well, I've been experimenting with taking the students into the lake, to interact with the local wildlife in its native environment, but our underwater neighbors are badly upset. It seems that they, too, have suffered unexpected jinxes from... invisible assailants. The Grindylows are out for blood."
The faces of most professors displayed great unease, except for Professor Potter, who seemed in high spirits.
"Mr. Wood?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Oh, yes, right," Oliver Wood lifted his gaze from his Quidditch Times and folded it in his lap. "Yes, yes, flying lessons haven't been going so well this year. Not much talent in this new batch. They keep falling off their brooms, and simply can't dodge a bludger to save their lives. I told you we need to invest more into new broo—"
"Do you honestly believe this is an issue of broom quality, Mr. Wood? Do you not see how those incidents may be related to the rest of the troubles we've been experiencing this year?" Professor McGonagall asked in thinly-veiled agitation.
"Well, no, but that doesn't mean that those old twigs shouldn't be replac—"
"Thank you, Oliver," the deputy headmistress cut him off. She fixed her gaze on the newest member of faculty. "Mr. Potter, what are your thought regarding all of this?"
"Hm?" Harry said, his Legilimency flirting with Professor Parkinson interrupted. "Oh, well, I'm not surprised by any of it, really," he chuckled, "Those kids are truly useless at defense."
"Be that as it may," Professor McGonagall said, "Don't you think it's a strange coincidence that all these... incidents... have started once you begun teaching?"
"Well, of course not," Harry rolled his eyes. "But it's hardly my fault that the students fail their homework."
Professor Slughorn blinked. "Homework, m'boy?"
Professor Potter nodded, beaming. "After a few disappointing lessons, I've realized just how behind those midgets are, so I figured I should give them extra homework, until they catch up."
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are you saying that all those incidents are the result of your... extracurricular teaching?"
"Well, not all," the Defence professor shrugged. "Hopeless as those twerps are, they seem to have at least taken to the Disillusionment charm quite well."
A soft smacking noise was heard as the Transfiguration mistress slapped her palm across her face.
"Harry, m'boy," Headmaster Slughorn said weakly. "Really, attacking students..."
"Oh, come off of it, Sluggy," Harry waved his wand hand wildly, causing the rest of the faculty members to duck their heads. "Those kids are soft! They've known nothing but peace! They don't even have house rivalries anymore! How are they ever going to learn to defend themselves without some practical experience?"
The teacher's lounge was filled with murmurings as various professors started chattering with each other in disgruntled voices.
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall was trying to reign in a headache. "Practical experience is to be gained in class, not in the halls."
"Well, duh. That's why I went through all the trouble of setting the brooms, bludgers, Bubotubers, and Grindylows against them. It's a bit more work for the supervising professors, but at least it gives the students some incentive."
Professor Longbottom groaned.
"Incentive?" the headmaster raised his eyebrows high up.
"They are hardly going to put in the effort to learn defence if they have nothing to defend against, are they? It took them some time to figure out that they should be on edge in my classroom, so now I'm teaching them to be on edge everywhere," Professor Potter smiled proudly.
"I suppose your next suggestion will be that we bring a basilisk and a horde of dementors for the children to battle?" Professor McGonagall glared at him harshly.
"You know, that's not a bad idea..." his face held a dreamy quality as he gazed at the ceiling in contemplation. The deputy headmistress was holding her face in her hands, looking as though she was on the verge of an aneurysm.
"I, for one, agree with Harry," said Oliver Wood, the flying instructor. "One of those dunces actually threatened to sue me because I hit him in the head with a bludger. Can you believe it? We need to toughen them up."
"It's really easy to make them cry," agreed Professor Parkinson. "I mean, I don't even have to try or anything."
"We're all aware of your ambition to usurp Snape's place as the most hated professor in Hogwarts history, Parkinson," Penelope Clearwater said. Pansy gave a little bow.
"Look, Harry," Neville turned to him in exasperation. "Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? I mean, I know that your... adventures... made you more resilient... but not all kids are built for that, you know?"
"Oh, shush, Neville," Harry rolled his eyes. "You should back me up on this. You don't want Minerva to know what you've really been growing in greenhouse five."
Professor Slughorn coughed loudly. "As innovative as your methods of teaching are, Harry, I must insist that you contain them in your classroom. The school's coffers can't possibly afford any more lawsuits from angry parents."
Harry huffed in annoyance. "Fine. But don't come complaining to me when the school loses the Triwizard Tournament to Durmstrang next year."
Minerva McGonagall's eyes lit up by the mention of competitive sport. "You know what, Horace, the boy may have a point..."
"I was surprised when some of the students actually managed to cast a Shield charm," Charlie Weasley said.
"Yes, Huckerby finally decided to learn the Cushioning charm, after his broom shook him off one too many times," said Wood.
"My method is clearly working," Harry said. "Of course, I learned from the best. Dumbledore would approve."
"Dumbledore?" asked Professor Slughorn.
"Indeed. Do you think it's a coincidence that I had so many deadly incidents during my time here? The professor raised me as a true Spartan. He understood that all knowledge comes at a price."
"I... don't believe that was his approach to education," said Professor McGonagall weakly.
"Well, actions speak louder than words. He definitely never complained about a rogue Grindylow or a colony of Acromantulas," Harry shrugged.
"The centaurs have been grumbling about that, actually," Professor Weasley said. "Apparently, without a natural predator around, the colony has grown too big and upset the natural balance of the forest eco-system."
"I'll see to that," Harry smiled. "Never quite forgave those buggers for trying to eat me alive. Horace, remind me of the current price for Acromantula venom?"
"About a hundred galleons for a pint, I believe," the headmaster mumbled.
"Right. Neville, do you have the sword?"
"I hung it on the wall at the Gryffindor common room, actually," said the Herbology professor.
Numerous pairs of incredulous eyes turned to him at the statement. "Well, that might account for some of those injuries..." Harry muttered.