Harry Potter came back from his morning run sweaty and a bit chilled. It was growing colder, and soon he'd have to figure out whether it was worth becoming an icicle, or if he'd rather do stairs in the castle instead. Harry thought he preferred the stairs, but then felt a sudden qualm. Why would he want to do what was easy, rather than what was hard?

Mornings were peaceful things, even at the Gryffindor table - because most of the Gryffs were night owls. Harry heard a spirited debate on the Third Principle of Edwina Lovechild going on at the Ravenclaw table, but from this distance, it was like a babbling brook. They weren't really going at it anyway, it was just the fun of countering each other's arguments, truth be told. All for the glory of the mind!

Harry was rather glad he wasn't in Ravenclaw. It was rather early for all that, he thought.

Hermione was busy studying - not for Defense, but for Charms. Harry leaned over, "Do we have a test this week?"

"No, next. Still, if I get this right now, I won't be worrying about it the whole day." Hermione said crossly. Harry leaned back and grinned.

Down the table some, Ron and Lavender were flirting with food, which was fine, although Harry really didn't want to see it up close. Hermione always said Ron's manners were atrocious, and Harry figured they must be, because she certainly didn't complain about his! And Harry Potter hadn't been taught at all!

Neville was talking with some younger years (Harry thought Romilda might have been trying to flirt with him, but Neville wasn't at all interested).

Harry stood, casting a quick tempus. Halfway through breakfast. Well, he wanted to see what Snape's classroom was like. Even if it was bare, he could get started warming up. He didn't want anyone to think he was a slob, or a duffer. Particularly at defense.

Inside Snape's wide classroom (it was five times the size of his Potions Classroom, and that was already double-wide because of the cauldrons), there were a dozen doors, set up in a 2 dimensional array. It was odd, too, as they had hinges but no supports.

Magic was often odd that way.

Harry strode up to one, turning the handle; contrary to common expectation, the door did not turn with it. Instead, he heard a click, and he carefully swung it open. It looked as though the walls were invisible, but as Harry walked through the opening that the door had formerly been in, he kept his arm wide, so that his palm would hit the wall. The wall stubbornly refused to make contact - completely insensible.

Harry turned around, and closed the door. What else was he going to do, anyway?

He started stretching, using a mirror charm to practice defending against his own spells. This was predictable, for about the first minute. Spells flew at the same speed, which wasn't quite instantaneous, but was close enough. Then he started the mirror wiggle-waggling, and it was a good deal tougher. Harry fell into a rhythm, and the challenge was mostly putting up his own shield as quickly as possible. If you kept the accents the same, Harry found, you could clip off the word - make it faster, the gleaming translucent silver of his shield spell snapping up quicker and quicker.

He hadn't realized that anyone had entered, until he heard the sardonic clapping of Severus Snape. "Doubtless it took you ages to learn that petty trick." Harry wanted to boil at the insult - he hadn't had anyone to practice with (as usual, he'd never seen a mate at the Dursleys'), so he'd made do. Harry rather abruptly came to the conclusion that his rage was both well deserved, and better off being shown than stuffed deep in his belly. If looks could kill, Harry's might just have lit Snape on fire.

Snape pretended to take no notice of Harry's glare, as he continued, his voice rapping for attention, "Class, if you will please direct your attention to me, and not the show-off in the center of the room?"

"Why are there so many doors in my classroom?" Snape purred, his lanky form prowling between groups of students.

Hermione, because it was always Hermione, raised her hand.

"Does anyone, other than Miss Granger, wish to hazard a guess?" Snape said. Harry wondered, as he figured the Slytherins often had in Potions class, if Snape was going to call on Hermione at all.

Snape waved his wand instead. The students, who had clustered (perhaps wisely) in front of the doors, were hit by a wave of sound.

Screaming, to be precise.

Harry had to listen to it, for about five seconds, before he was convinced that the screaming emanated from the doors.

Snape waved his wand again, and the silence echoed through the air. "WHY are there so many doors in my classroom?" He shouted, and Snape never shouted, not in class. Perhaps he was concerned that someone might be unable to hear his usual soft-spoken voice, with their ears ringing from the aftershocks of the screams.

"To go through them," Susan Bones said clearly.

Snape turned towards Susan, stalking around other bodies to get close to her. "And how would you do that?"

"I'm not sure. What would you advise, sir?" Susan asked, her chin slightly raised.

"I wouldn't. I would upbraid you for your lack of critical thinking." Snape hissed. "Anyone else?"

"Few doors my shoulder can't get me through." Goyle said. Harry's eyes flicked to him, and he was surprised to see such certainty on Greg Goyle's face.

"Clearly, you haven't met a steel door yet." Snape said, in that precise, acerbic way he had.

"Longbottom, how does a Gryffindor open the door?" Snape said, and Harry's hackles rose unbidden. It was one thing for Snape to pick on Harry, but Neville? Neville hadn't done anything wrong.

Neville smiled a gormless grin, "He doesn't, sir."

Snape's eyes flashed, a display of temper, before he said, in a quieter voice, "And why is that?"

"The Gryffindor way is through the wall, sir." Neville, grinning, attempted to demonstrate, shooting a Bombarda curse between two of the doors, and running through before he'd fully registered that the spell was rebounding on him. Harry, who'd been expecting that result, ably shielded Neville before the Bombarda could actually hit. Unfortunately, he'd used one of the shield spells Snape had taught him - one that liked to rebound spells, not absorb them.

The spell flew straight at Pansy Parkinson. Who, as calmly as could be, opened the door in front of her, and stepped straight through, closing the door smartly on the spell, which was absorbed. Pansy disappeared entirely from view.

"How did she accomplish that feat? In a room of locked doors?" Snape snarled, whipping his robes around him as he paced like a caged panther through the crowd.

"We weren't looking, sir. How should we know?" Goyle said, and Harry heard the actual response - 'sir, I know, but you're not going to like it. And you're going to like it less if I say it here, in front of everyone.'

It was just so easy to think of Goyle as stupid. He really wasn't, but he knew how to hide his cleverness. Harry spent more than a brief moment wondering what would have happened if he'd gone to Hogwarts acting as stupid as Goyle did. Probably nothing good, Harry thought with chagrin. Besides, I doubt I could lie that well...

"Well, what are you waiting for? Open The Doors!" Snape announced, slashing his wand.

The screaming started again, reduced only in the slightest for the single door Pansy had entered. "Alohamora," Justin said, to astonished looks from everyone else, particularly when his door didn't open.

"A first year spell?" Hannah cried.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long class.

For as long as Harry could remember, Hermione would always fix his glasses for him. It wasn't like he didn't... eventually... learn the spell (if he hadn't known before, he was dead certain that Snape would have forced learning it on him. Glasses were a favorite target of the lanky bastard; maybe something he'd first tested on James Potter, come to think...). It was just force of habit.

So Harry wasn't at all surprised when Hermione cast five different unlocking spells, and on the fifth, had the door open. She cast them silently too, so no one else could copy them. (Harry had only recognized the first two - alohamora, done silently so no one would laugh, and a third year unlocking charm he generally used on his own trunk).

Now, Hermione was leaning in, through the door. Harry could see Snape stalking nearer, and something like dread started to bubble up in his gut.

Harry's eyes, though, were still trained on Hermione, still unwilling to go through the door, and about to start spelling to see what was past it. Draco Malfoy, his eyes trained on another door, backed towards Hermione, effectively flanking her rump. Then, Draco Malfoy 'stumbled', the spell he cast going awry - and Hermione Granger stumbled through the door.

Malfoy had nudged her.

Harry had seen it.

Quick as greased lightning, Draco Malfoy slammed the door closed behind her.

From the other side, the entire room could hear the boom boom boom of Hermione throwing her shoulder against the door.

Harry took the cue from the blond Slytherin, casting a substantial variety of spells at the door to the right of Hermione's, moving closer until his back was cornering Malfoy's at a right angle. "She's going to get you back for that." Harry said.

"Worth it," Malfoy said, and moved away.

Harry had had another idea, and moved closer to his door, working on it. He put a seed in the door's lock, and then started showering it with water and light. "Trying to growsomething, Potter?" Snape sneered. "I don't think that's quite how it works."

"Wait for it," Harry Potter growled, seeming, in his concentration, to not take note of who was speaking to him. Believe it or not, that was intentional. Harry needed his concentration, and thinking about Snape was hardly the way to keep it. Slowly, inside the lock, a venomous tentacula started to sprout. And, just like a baby, it found the tumblers, and started to play. That wasn't good enough, though Harry could, with his ear by the lock, hear them clinking up and down.

His wand shot sun through the keyhole, and he could see the first, and then the second tentacle push out. Just... Just a bit more, Harry thought.

And then he heard the click, the sound of all the tumblers being right. Harry'd known how to do this the muggle way, of course, but that required a bobby pin, and he was hardly going to pull it out of a Magical's hair, now was he?

Quietly, he opened the door and entered, closing the door behind him.

It was a black room, and there were little pools of light. Hermione was there, as was Goyle, rubbing his shoulder, who grinned without reservation at Harry Potter, "This one was wood!"

Susan Bones was over three, and Draco Malfoy was up two, seeming to sulk even in the light shining down on him. Doesn't want Hermione to humiliate him in front of everyone, I suspect.

Hermione muttered something unflattering about Goyle, and Harry made a mental note to make certain that Hermione worked more with the Huuge young man. It would be good for her, to realize that not everything was skin deep. Harry just wished Dudley was more than his excessively stuffed skin.

When the banner unfurled, I knew I had been spending too much time with Severus Snape. I could hear it. In his voice.

It was disturbing, alright?

"Now that you've gotten in, can you get out?
Find your key.
But beware, the egress is not the entrance."

To top it all off, Hermione Granger just started laughing. Like, belly on the floor, wriggling laughter (luckily, she wasn't on the floor). Everyone else in the room stared at her like she was somehow... off. Well, except Malfoy and Pansy, both of whom looked like they desperately wanted in on the joke, and didn't have a prayer in their cold dead hearts of giving up enough pride to ask her.

It was hilarious, well, if you're me, at least. Pride never stopped me from asking a question; wisdom had, once, I vaguely recalled. I think the reason I didn't recall it better was that particular wisdom hadn't resurfaced for a while, and the Dursleys hit hard, and didn't ask questions.

Oh, everyone except those two, me, and Gregory Goyle, apparently (he was farther away from Hermione than I was, so I didn't notice, until...): "Izzat why we've got bread?" Greg asked, his mouth full of bread.

Everyone looked to him (including a still-laughing Hermione Granger, who loved riddles just as much as she loved secrets), and saw behind him, there were loaves of bread. A quick count told me that it was exactly the number of people. Sans one, of course, because Greg had picked one up and was eating it.

"How do you get a key out of bread?" Parvati said, and I spent a good half minute trying to figure out how she got in, before noticing that two of her talon-like nails were scuffed.

Hermione, as always, has all the answers; so, we just had to wait until she stopped laughing. "There's a sucker born every minute." She gasped, and then started laughing again.

Draco Malfoy, of all people, frowned, asking in his usual sneer, "Don't most babies suckle? Even Muggles must drink somehow..."

This made Hermione laugh all the louder.

I was suddenly rather glad that Severus Snape, Potions Master and general dick, wasn't in the room. He'd have blown a fuse at Hermione's untoward laughter, I swear to all that is holy.

About a minute (and another hank of Greg's bread) later, Hermione said, "It's just like King Cake. Except instead of a coin, there's a key."

Draco Malfoy was nodding, "So we need to eat our way to the exit. How plebian."

Pansy Parkinson was in a snit, and she was followed by Parvati, "There is no way I am eating an entire loaf of bread. Just give me mine, and I'll tear through it for the key."

Parvati gave Parkinson a grateful smile, saying, "That's the spirit!"

"Your funeral," Justin the Hufflepuff said, and everyone looked at him with a "why are you interrupting" look.

Severus Snape stood in a room that was conspicuously missing the more talented students. The last door had closed, and here stood the Ravenclaws, along with the less clever students, primarily Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Along with Crabbe, of course. It wasn't that he wasn't talented, he just preferred to hide it, and Goyle had already put his shoulder through one door. Wise of him, that. Professor Snape wouldn't have allowed the same trick a second time. "You have all failed the assignment." Snape said, "Your homework is to discover at least five ways through the doors. There will be no additional aid from your teachers, so do not clutter up my office hours."

The room seemed restive, particularly the Ravenclaws. They always hated getting poor marks - it was hardly his fault if they lacked creativity, was it? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a house elf wave a red and blue banner. The banner's out. ProfessorSnape was far more interested in those students with talent. If teaching Potions had taught him nothing else, it was that some students were completely hopeless.

Justin asked the question that had been on everyone's mind (except Harry's, apparently), "Goyle, why are you eating that loaf, in particular?"

Harry was suddenly glad that the Hufflepuff had used Goyle's last name. Justin was a part of the DA - but, here, there were three Ravenclaw girls that served under Malfoy in Snape's Squad of Horrible Ravenclaws with Too Many Rules.

Oh, that wasn't the actual name, but Harry liked his better. So there.

It would have been a very tricky thing to wangle out of, why a Hufflepuff was calling that brute of a Slytherin by his first name. Harry's head twinged a the "brute" that he'd used, even in his own head. Harry hadn't found anything to dislike about Greg Goyle - his manners were even neater than Ron's, though he still ate as much as three Potters.

Harry'd spent enough time being mistaken for a criminal - it hurt to casually label someone. Particularly now that he realized just how stupid those labels were.

Even Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, didn't deserve to be labeled. Not like that, at any rate.

Git, impossible blighter, general berk.

He deserved those labels, and was quite welcome to them. Harry had the sudden, split-vision thought - would Malfoy agree that he deserved those labels? Harry nodded quietly, thinking, Maybe so, even. He's a lot different this year...

Goyle had finished chewing a large hank of bread, before he said another word. Manners. "First year, Snape pulled a sprig of buckwheat off my back. It had somehow stayed attached from my farm the whole way to Hogwarts." Goyle smirked, a look that was decidedly strange on his face. "You know Snape, couldn't resist making a crack about it," Goyle attempted to mimic Snape's voice, "Did you have a pleasant roll in the hay on your way to Hogwarts?"

Everyone laughed at Snape's gruff voice attempting this politeness, and utterly failing to be pleasant about it.

Goyle grinned, "He remembers I like buckwheat!" Five years later, Harry thought. Could he say the same about McGonagall? Did she remember something small about each of her pupils? Maybe not...

Malfoy continued, "He really does like buckwheat. He's the only one I've ever seen eat the buckwheat griddlecakes." Buckwheat griddlecakes? Harry thought, a bit confused, Our table never had...

Goyle responded, "Had ta ask for them special, but the house elves will make anything if you're nice to them." I'd like to try those, at some point. Better if I asked the house elves for my own, though, than to sit at Slytherin's own table!

Parvati and Pansy were bonding, and Harry could see no good coming of that - they were both horrid gossips, and even if both did somehow learn to keep their mouths shut about Important Things, that just led to them coming up with even more fanciful ideas.

If it hadn't been their idea to start the rumor about Harry and Malfoy, Harry really didn't want to be on their bad side. Somehow, they'd create a plausible rumor about him shacking up with Snape. Or Dumbledore. (Harry paused briefly to try and assess who was worse).

"Why aren't you eating yours?" Goyle asked, relatively genially, to Neville - the low boom of his voice jostling Harry out of contemplation.

"Oh, mine smells like tomato leaves. It's not for eating." Neville smiled, "Quite poisonous."

"Ruddy bastard wants to kill you?" Harry catcalled.

Neville shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. It figures, though, that he's read my monograph."

Draco Malfoy looked at Neville Longbottom askance, as if to say, You've gone and done what?

"A Monograph?" Hermione squealed. Yes, squealed. It hurt everyone's ears. "Neville, we are so proud of you!"

Harry, a bit more interested in what the monograph was than praising Neville, asked tentatively, "So what's it about? Your monograph?"

"Magical ways to defend against potato blight," Neville said firmly, "There's no recorded way to eliminate the disease, once it's in the soil, but I've made progress in reducing its affect on Magical Agriculture."

Hermione frowned, slightly, "Is there much Magical Agriculture? All the food seems like ... well, muggle food."

Malfoy snorted, sneering, "You didn't think we stole from the Muggles, did you, Mmm-?"

Harry had a rather good idea of what Draco Malfoy had been about to say, and he fingered his wand underneath his sleeve.

Neville cut in, before this could get any more violent, "If it's easier to grow with magic - and everything except apples is, then we're going to grow it with magic."

Ollie the Ravenclaw said, "But what's potato blight got to do with tomato leaves?"

Harry spoke up, cautiously, "Potato blight hits tomato plants too, leaves and stems and fruit."

Neville continued, "And it's a sight easier to experiment on tomatoes!"

Goyle asked again, "Why aren't you eating it, though?"

Neville smiled, "Tomato leaves are poisonous. The entire plant is, except for the fruit."

Parvati grinned, a wild uninhibited thing that Harry'd never seen on her face before. "Saffron! Delightful..."

Pansy asked, softly, "How do you know that's yours?"

Parvati had actually broken off a piece, and was eating the violently yellow colored bread. "It's my perfume. Something my grandmother always sends from India when I run out."

Sue giggled, "Snape's been smelling that on you for years, hasn't he?"

"Courtesy of his habit of standing right over your shoulder," Harry said, glad to have something to grouse about. It was phenomenally irritating, particularly when you were trying to stir just so.

Pansy was sniffing each loaf carefully, making it around halfway down before she picked up one and lightly tore through it, eating just a bit to get to the center.

Harry couldn't help it - he had to know. "What does yours taste like?"

"Olives," Pansy said, shooting him a carefully triumphant, and quite mysterious, smile. Yes, that was definitely all he was getting out of her. And yet, 'Why Olives' was echoing through his mind.

"What's yours?" Justin asked Susan Bones.

She smiled back at him, "Honeysuckle."

Neville paled, looking interested. "Oh, he did not -" He strode over.

"Yes, he did!" Sue said, stomping lightly on the floor with her foot. "Here try a bit."

Neville did, his eyes bulging with surprise. "That... I don't believe it!" He laughed.

Parvati sniffed one, her pert nose wrinkling, in a way that Harry wanted to laugh at. "That sly bastard!"

Harry looked over at her, but she didn't seem to need his prompting. Pansy smiled a smug smile, "What'd he do now?"

"Lav and I had gone to ask the Potions Master about a bonding agent for several immiscible agents for the shampoo we were working on. He just looked at us, and told us to get out." Parvati... smiled? "Ambergris! That sly bugger went ahead and solved the problem!"

Morag said primly, "He probably thinks it a neat reward for solving his puzzle."

Mandy and Morag quickly found their loaves - there weren't many left.

Harry Potter started sniffing over ones, having a bit of trouble figuring out what Snape might have left for him. Scratch that, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that there were a world of possibilities. And that would be for Normal Snape, or even Mad-As-Hell Snape. For Snape-Ignores-You? Harry didn't even have any clue.

Which was why he was just standing there, two loaves in hand, when Hermione and Draco found their loaves.

"Vanilla!" Hermione said, turning to Harry, "It smells just like me."

Beside her, Draco Malfoy sniffed a loaf - unlike Pansy, he made it seem natural. He was that good in Potions, it might be second-nature by now. "Sandalwood..." Draco said, tapping his hand on his leg. Was that the scent that Draco used? He did always smell woody, and it definitely wasn't pine.

Suddenly, Draco grinned, and it was a manic thing that didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were tense and angry. So, of course, Harry watched Draco snag Hermione's loaf. "This one's mine."

"You give that back, Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked, ready to do battle to get back her prize.

"Take your own!" Draco responded, throwing his loaf back at her.

"You colossal bigot!" Hermione said, her wand sliding into her hand.

"I can't help it if some of you inferiors are destined to be shorter than I shall be. It's all in the blood, you realize?" Draco Malfoy managed to drawl all of that, but Harry picked up on the deliberate deflection, the misdirection.

As Hermione kept chasing Draco around the room, Harry turned towards Justin, who was eating his loaf. "Which one did you get?"

Justin said plainly, "I got plain."

Harry frowned briefly, "Really?"

Justin snirked, "Yeah, when I got here, Snape asked me which side buttered my bread, and I just smiled at him and said, 'I never butter my bread.' He said back, 'then you'd better be better than the lot of them.'"

Harry's loaf, which was last, turned out to taste like soap. Harry ate it all with a grin on his face.

Snape wouldn't deliberately poison him, would he?

Harry was sick of arguments, even lighthearted ones, so he was out of the Room Past The Doors before Hermione and Draco had finished their jocular, albeit physical altercation. He'd caught a shrieked, "You bastard!" on his way out.

Snape was there, watching them, seeming to be a statue. The pupils were looking wideyed at the room they'd appeared in, as it was definitely not where they'd come from. This was a smoking den, rich and brown and rusty red. Snape, even in all black, looked perfectly at home here.

Harry turned toward the last two doors, it was taking them a while... Harry just hoped that they didn't come out looking freshly snogged.

Snape had intentionally switched the loaves, for Malfoy and Granger. That was intentional. And he'd done it in front of ... well, frankly a lot of people. Harry understood Goyle, and thought he could understand Pansy - Goyle was loyal more to Malfoy than to, well, anyone else. It wasn't much of a stretch to think Pansy the same; or if she wasn't, that it would take more than money to get her to betray a fellow Slytherin.

And the DA folks were likely to keep quiet - particularly Bones, who seemed the solid sort. Parvati would be more likely to giggle to Lav about it, rather than anything else...

But Mandy and Morag? They weren't part of the DA. They were part of Snape's Squad, but didn't seem to be especially loyal to Malfoy. What does Snape know that I don't? Harry thought. Are they ready to leave, or will they be on our side? Harry suddenly realized that this was the sort of thing Snape had WARNED him about. His confounded curiosity... Maybe I can figure this out without being such a Gryffindor about it. Harry nearly grinned, relishing the challenge.

Malfoy and Granger exited at the same time, luckily not looking freshly snogged (Harry doubted Hermione would go for that, anyway).

Next, Harry took in the look in Malfoy's eye. He recognized that look - it was deep-seated rage, and Draco Malfoy was headed straight as an arrow towards Professor Snape.

It was almost relieving, in a way, Harry thought, to know that Snape could get under even a Slytherin's tough and warty hide. That it wasn't just Harry who could get spitting mad at him.

When Snape ordered them all out, Harry wanted to eavesdrop, wanted to know if Malfoy could yell like a Gryffindor.

Sitting down to dinner, Harry's eyes were on two specific Slytherins (quite the trick when one was at the High Table). Malfoy looked contained... but Harry figured that was just rage simmering under the surface.

Quite quietly, Harry smirked. DA should be fun today, he thought wryly. Or would Draco be stuck hunting them again?

Hermione was working her books again, a parchment on one side of her, as she had her plate on the other. Harry craned his head over, and saw she was working on Flitwick's book. Not the charms book Snape had given them.

I hope Malfoy can make DA today, Harry thought, He's supposed to teach, at some point, isn't he? Not that I mind Goyle's werewolf classes.

Snape was still studiously not looking at Table Gryffindor, and Harry Potter frowned at that. Exactly how much had Snape been watching him? Surely he couldn't be avoiding work because he was upset with Potter, could he?

Actually, Snape did sound about that petty. And McGonagall was up at the High Table too; arguably, it was her job to watch Table Gryffindor.

Quietly, Harry wished he was in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Nobody ever got 'corrected' there - and certainly didn't have two Heads competing over who got to correct (and take points) from the offender. Harry shook his head, That'd never have worked, and I know it.

Harry Potter was early to DA, earlier than nearly everyone. So, of course, he walked in on an ongoing argument between Malfoy and Granger. Surprisingly, it wasn't about Malfoy's teasing conduct earlier. I wish it was about that. No, for once, Granger was complaining about Malfoy's choice of subject material, which was amptly obvious from the moment Harry walked in the door. The alembic and cauldron said Malfoy was doing Potions.

Harry wanted to groan. He wasn't good at potions, he wasn't even decent at potions.

But - Hermione was always the one saying that Potions were necessary, to become an Auror and such. Frowning, Harry strolled over to them, knowing that the argument was unlikely to be settled before he arrived. Still frowning, Harry asked, "Hermione, what's the problem? Aren't you always saying that we need Potions to be an Auror? Surely they wouldn't put a requirement just for the sake of it?"

Hermione frowned over at Harry, "That's exactly what's done with 'weeder out' courses in uni, Harry." Seeming to step back from the digression (possibly in response to Malfoy's frown, which threatened a miniature explosion of questions), she sighed, "It's not that I don't think it's important, Harry. It's that these shields seem more pertinent to battle!"

Draco Malfoy yawned, dramatically, "Just let me teach my class. This isn't your class. You get to teach your class without me looking over your shoulder telling you what you're doing wrong."

Harry advanced, "As much as I hate to agree with Malfoy, he's right. It's his class, let him teach it." Harry thought to himself, grimly, If I thought there would be problems in the next week, I'd be singing a different tune.