Chapter 21 – A New Professor
The Sunday evening after Madam Umbridge was escorted from Hogwarts' premises, Harry received a summons to the Headmaster's office. Unlike the previous times he had been to see Dumbledore that year, the invitation was for him alone, and did not include Fleur and Hermione.
When he queried them, they laughed at him and sent him on his way.
"What, are you afraid of facing the big, bad Headmaster on your own?" teased Hermione.
"I'm sure it's fine, Harry," added Fleur. "You can tell us what he wants when you get back."
It was therefore Harry alone who found himself seated in front of the Headmaster's desk, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the way the man was looking at him. He had never really felt uncomfortable with Dumbledore before, but the look he was being given now seemed to suggest that Dumbledore knew all of his secrets. Or at least whatever secrets he fancied he possessed.
"I assume you are happy with the end result of Madam Umbridge's stay here, Harry?" the Headmaster began.
"It would have been better if she'd never showed up at all," Harry groused. "But at least she's gone now and the Minister won't meddle any more."
The Headmaster had already made the announcement that he would take over Defense for the rest of the year, and Harry found himself curious to see how Dumbledore would teach the subject. There was no disputing the man's expertise—his resume did include the defeat of the previous dark lord, after all—but Harry knew that he had been the Transfiguration Professor when he had been a teacher. The experience in teaching one subject would undoubtedly be invaluable, but it was, in the end, a different subject. But he could hardly be any worse than most of the other Defense Professors that had held the position since Harry arrived at Hogwarts.
"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly. "It has been too long since I have been in a classroom and I look forward to teaching once again, even if it is only for a short time."
Harry murmured that he was looking forward to having Dumbledore as a teacher, before he fell silent, waiting for the Headmaster to get to the point of his summons.
"Now, Mr. Potter, I would appreciate it if you would tell me of this club which you and your friends have organized."
Flabbergasted, Harry stared at the Headmaster, wondering how the man had ever known of the club. They had taken every precaution not only to hide it from Umbridge, but from all the professors, and it seemed rather silly now to know Dumbledore had been on to them the whole time.
"How did you know about the club?" Harry asked. He then colored at the thought he had spoken so disrespectfully. "I'm sorry, Professor, I—"
"It is nothing, Harry," Dumbledore assured him with a smile. "But let's just say that though it is impossible for me to know everything which goes on at this school, I at least try to keep abreast of major events. Though it is not well known what you are doing, I would class such an activity as a significant event. Can I assume that you began it as a means to combat your lack of instruction offered by Madam Umbridge's class?"
"Yes, sir," Harry responded. "Auror Moody told us that we needed to practice what he taught us, and we decided it would be a good time to teach others about it too."
"Very prudent, Harry," approved Dumbledore. "The question is, what do you intend to do with it now that Madam Umbridge has been removed from the Defense Professorship?"
That question had not really occurred to Harry yet, as he had simply been happy to be rid of the woman.
"I don't know, sir," he said. "I suppose now that we will get a proper professor, we don't really need the club any longer."
"You don't?" asked the Headmaster.
"You think we do, sir?"
"I should think that your opinion on the matter would be much more important than mine. You and your friends saw a need and you moved to fill that need, which shows initiative and organization, but now that you will be receiving better instruction—hopefully, anyway—" Dumbledore stated with a self deprecating chuckle, "it does not necessarily follow that the club is no longer necessary."
"You think we should continue it?"
Dumbledore sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk as he directed an intent look at Harry. "You know that dark times are approaching, Harry," he stated. "In fact, with the return of Voldemort last June, one could truthfully say that dark times are already upon us.
"The truth of the matter is that the education you receive at Hogwarts is valuable, but will be insufficient to see you through what is to come. I agreed to have Alastor teach you because I felt it would benefit you and help you improve and become better able to defend yourself. I see this club as a continuation of that effort, Harry, and I cannot commend your foresight in organizing it enough."
"I wasn't exactly my doing, sir," Harry replied bashfully. "Hermione and Fleur had to talk me into it. I wasn't exactly keen on the idea at the beginning."
"And that is why they are such good friends and influences on you. It is said that behind every great man is a great woman—or I daresay even two—urging him on the path to greatness. Listen to their counsel. Their feelings for you, their desire to see you succeed is such that they will never lead you wrong, should you choose to allow them to inspire you."
"Yes sir," was Harry's automatic response.
"Good. Now, as for the composition of this club… I understand that it is primarily made up of upper years?"
"There are a few younger ones, but most are at least fourth year and higher."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "That is about the time when one is capable of learning to truly defend oneself, not to mention having the power available to do so. Please tell me who you have invited to join your club."
Harry obliged, telling the Headmaster of those they invited to join the club, the location they were using, as well as the methods they were using to get them to the meeting room undetected, though he supposed that was not truly necessary any longer.
"It sounds like you have everything under control," Dumbledore finally responded with some approval. "I have noticed that you have rather pointedly left out Slytherin house from your club."
"I'm not exactly friendly with anyone from Slytherin," Harry replied defensively. "Besides, I wouldn't want to teach Malfoy how to beat me."
"I suppose you wouldn't at that," said Dumbledore. "I do understand your reasoning in this matter, Harry, but I would caution you against painting the entire house with the same brush. Not all of Slytherin house is affiliated with the Death Eaters, nor is everyone in Gryffindor house noble and true. Peter Pettigrew proves that point, does he not?"
"He does, sir."
"Besides, even Mr. Malfoy may some day regret his behavior and change his ways. Second chances should always be available for those who are truly penitent."
Harry could hardly believe his ears—was Dumbledore truly suggesting that Draco Malfoy would ever be anything but a cold, bigoted, ferrety little git, whose lifelong ambition was the destruction of any he considered "inferior?" The man was wise, but Harry could not ever see such a thing happening.
"With all due respect, sir," he responded cautiously, "the only time Malfoy wants a second chance is when his hex misses you the first time."
With a sigh, Dumbledore removed his half-moon glassed and rubbed his temples. "Unfortunately, I fear you are correct. Mr. Malfoy seems to eagerly embrace his father's teachings, and shows no inclination to see reason.
"I am not suggesting you unilaterally forgive and accept Mr. Malfoy and those of his circle," Dumbledore said, putting his glasses back on and regarding Harry in a very serious manner. "I daresay he has made life uncomfortable for you and your friends since you have arrived at Hogwarts, and that the situation between you is such that there is little to be done to close the gap. All I suggest is that you keep an open mind about others and remember that sometimes things are not as they seem."
"I understand, sir."
"Very well then. I am now officially sanctioning your club, and giving you full rights to hold your meetings without all the secrecy which was necessary when Madam Umbridge was resident in this school. You will, of course, require a staff sponsor, whether or not they attend your meetings. Had you given any thought to whom you would ask to be your sponsor?"
"We hadn't really, sir," Harry responded slowly. "Our goal was to keep it from everyone on the staff so that if we were discovered they couldn't use it against you. But I have heard that Professor Flitwick was a well-known duelist."
"He was indeed. I will leave it to you to approach him. I only ask that you do so before your next meeting."
Harry agreed, and after a few more minutes of conversation with the Headmaster, he left to return to the common room.
The news that Dumbledore had been aware of their activities prompted initial shock, but soon a sense of reality settled over the trio. As Hermione pointed out, there were several ways in which he could have kept tabs on them, and he had a reason to do so with Umbridge wreaking havoc in the school. At the very least he could have assigned a house-elf to watch them, or merely questioned the portraits who, though they may not have been able to give him specifics, would have at least seen enough to allow him to make some educated guesses.
There was a sense of excitement in the school at the news that the Headmaster would be taking over Defense Professor duties. The fact that he had bested Grindelwald to end that dark lord's reign of terror was a matter of known, recent history, and it was well known that he was the only wizard whom Voldemort feared. However, none of the younger generation had ever had the opportunity to see the man in action, so there was understandably some curiosity about his exact abilities.
The one change which was necessitated by Dumbledore taking over Defense, however, was that due to time constraints and his duties as Headmaster—among other things—he was not able to teach the schedule as it currently existed. Therefore, each year was combined into one large class, and instead of the class meeting twice a week, one of the classes was extended, and the other cancelled. For the fifth year students, as their Defense class was scheduled for Monday and Wednesday afternoons, the new schedule dictated that their Monday class was extended by an hour, and their Wednesday class was cancelled. This made their Mondays even busier than before, as Defense would now abut directly onto the dinner hour, but it made their Wednesdays lighter by comparison, allowing them more time to prepare for the meeting of the Defense Club. And though these changes meant that they would now be required to share defense class with all the fifth years—including Malfoy and the other Slytherins—overall Harry and his Gryffindor year-mates were happy with the changes, and eager to receive instruction from such a famed wizard.
The day after Umbridge's departure, all of the fifth years of Hogwarts filed into their new classroom. As the official Defense classroom was not large enough to hold their numbers, they had been directed to another room which was closer to the Great Hall. The new room had the advantage of being much larger than the old room, and once the house-elves had transferred desks, blackboards, and other paraphernalia from the Defense classroom, it appeared as welcoming as the traditional defense classroom, only larger.
They had just situated themselves in their seats, when Malfoy and his cronies sauntered into the classroom and took seats behind and a little to the side of Harry and his friends.
"Hey Scarface, I bet you're crying in relief that the big bad Defense Professor is gone," he snarked. "The Creature's daddy had to come and chase her away from you, didn't he?"
"I guess I'm starting to take some lessons from you, Ferret," Harry retorted. "You taught me through your excellent example of hiding behind Daddy's robes every time the going gets rough."
"Now let's have enough of that and be civil, shall we not?" interrupted Dumbledore as he strode into the room. He stopped and peered at the two antagonists, Harry abashed, Malfoy defiant. "I understand there is no love lost between you two, but in class you may suspend your rivalry and act like young men should be expected to act. That will be three points from you, Mr. Malfoy, for provoking a confrontation, and an additional five points for your insult to Miss Delacour. Mr. Potter, that will also be three points from you for your own insults."
Draco sputtered in indignation. "Why does he only get three points?"
"I believe I already told you why, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore stated pointedly. "Had Mr. Potter fired the first shot, his would have been the greater penalty."
Malfoy appeared as though he wanted to protest further, but he was again interrupted by the Headmaster. "Do you wish to earn further point deductions, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy's mouth snapped shut and he stared sulkily back at the Headmaster. Satisfied, Dumbledore turned away and made his way toward the front of the class. Harry, smirking at his nemesis mouthed, "When my father hears," at Malfoy, gleefully noting the redness of the boy's rage. He then pointedly ignored the ponce, attending the Headmaster who had turned to face the class.
"Welcome to Defense class," said Dumbledore, sweeping the class with his gaze. "I am happy to be with you all today. It has been many years since I taught, and I must admit that I have been looking forward to it immensely."
He began to pace in front of them, his brows furrowed in thought. "I understand that your Defense experience this year has been somewhat… lacking, especially in the realm of practical application. We have already lost two months of study, and my schedule will not allow for me to take all the classes as they were originally scheduled. You will therefore be working at a much quicker pace, and much of the practice of the things you learn will need to be on your own time. I believe, however, that you are all capable of learning what you will need to know."
Stopping, Dumbledore once again ran his gaze over the class. "Before we begin, however, I believe we should be clear on exactly what we are learning. Can anyone tell me what exactly constitutes the dark arts?"
The Headmaster motioned to Hermione with a kindly smile when he saw her hand in the air.
"The dark arts refers to any magic which is mainly used to cause harm," Hermione stated in a clear voice.
"An excellent textbook description, Miss Granger—take two points for Gryffindor." He faced the class and raised an eyebrow. "Does anyone have any issue with Miss Granger's definition?"
"What about will and intent, Professor?" asked Susan Bones. "Cannot any spell which is intended to cause harm be considered to be a dark spell?"
"Interesting question, Miss Bones," Dumbledore said with a smile of approval. "Let us discuss it, shall we? Can anyone name a spell which can be used for harm?"
"The cutting curse," said Terry Boot.
"Excellent, Mr. Boot. Now, in what way can the cutting curse be used for harm?"
"Well, you could behead your enemy in a duel with it."
Dumbledore chuckled. "In some more extreme cases, yes you could, though it would take a highly powerful cutting curse to do that much damage. What else can you do with a cutting curse? Does hit have any good uses?"
"You can use it to cut off the stalk of a plant, or to slice an orange in half," said Padma Patil.
"Very good, Miss Patil." He looked around the class before continuing. "We have a single spell which can be used for both good and ill intents. Therefore, in this case it is clearly shown that though the spell can perhaps be used to harm, it was not necessarily intended to be a dark spell. The will and intent of the caster is specifically needed to determine whether the spell is used in a dark manner."
The class digested this as Dumbledore paused for a moment. Harry, his Defense Professors having largely been ineffective or incompetent his entire time at Hogwarts, was enjoying the philosophical discussion immensely. Even in Remus's class they had done a lot of practical work, and learned about dark creatures, but a discussion about the nature of dark magic had never been part of the curriculum.
"Are all spells like this one? Does the intent of the caster always determine whether the spell is used in a dark manner, or are there spells, potions, wards, acts, etc, which are harmful by nature."
"There are spells that by their nature are purely dark," Harry said, once Dumbledore indicated that he should speak. "The Unforgivables, by their very nature, are dark spells and have no light applications."
"Spoken like a true coward," Draco scoffed from behind.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrow and regarded the Malfoy scion. "You have a different opinion, Mr. Malfoy?"
Puffing himself up in his self importance, Draco stated pompously, "My father told me that there is no light or dark. There is merely power and those with the right and ability to exercise that power."
"And who decides who has that right, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Those with the right know it," Malfoy responded with a shrug. "There are those who are superior by their very existence as heirs of many generations of magical ability. Those who are so chosen have no need to justify their actions, for they work for the betterment of the Wizarding world in the prevention of its tainting by those of a lesser station."
Shaking his head, Dumbledore regarded Draco severely. For Harry, though he had always known of what Malfoy believed, he had never heard the blond state his beliefs with such clarity and in such a public forum. This was a dangerous person—just as his father and his father's master were dangerous. Regardless of Dumbledore's desire—and it was a noble desire—to redeem people such as Malfoy, Harry knew there was little chance he would ever change. His father's teachings were far too ingrained in him for there to ever be room for any kind of competing viewpoint.
"I am unsurprised your father has taught such things, given what I have seen of his behavior," responded Dumbledore, a slight hint of sadness entering his voice. "But regardless of what you have been told, there is a distinct delineation between the dark arts and other magic—not all magic can have a benevolent application.
"For example, let us speak of the killing curse. For most of those in this room, casting a killing curse at me would do next to nothing. Can anyone tell me why?"
At his signal, Ron spoke up. "The killing curse takes a lot of power to cast properly."
"Very good, Mr. Weasley. Your answer is correct, but only part of the answer. Can anyone tell me what else is necessary to properly cast the killing curse?"
"The killing curse is also powered by hate, Professor," Harry stated when Dumbledore motioned to him.
"Exactly, Mr. Potter—take two more points for Gryffindor." Dumbledore fell silent and surveyed the class once again. "Yes, the killing curse requires a significant level of power to cast, but it is also fueled by the caster's hate. You could state the incantation and summon the necessary power, but if you have not summoned the hatred necessary to truly cast the spell, it would have little effect. Given that, is there any practical application for the curse? For example, could you perform a mercy killing for a terminally ill patient?"
"Not unless you hated that person," said Daphne Greengrass.
"Exactly," stated Dumbledore. "Beyond the ethical concerns of performing a mercy killing, the killing curse is not useful in such circumstances, as you would have to power the curse with hate."
"But Professor," Harry said, "I know that the killing curse requires hatred, but not everyone is killed by someone who hates them. Death Eaters don't necessarily even know everyone they kill."
"Very interesting point, Mr. Potter," approved Dumbledore. "Can anyone shed any light on this seeming contradiction?"
The class was silent for several moments as the students ruminated on the question. Harry felt he likely knew the answer to the riddle, but decided he would let someone else speak.
It was several moments before Padma Patil raised her hand somewhat tentatively, speaking when Dumbledore motioned to her. "I think that the hate does not need to be specifically directed at someone to be effective. Death Eaters, for example, hate those with what they consider to be lesser bloodlines in general. Thus, when they cast that specific spell, their hatred is more general in nature than specific."
"Very good, Miss Patil. Take two points for Ravenclaw."
Dumbledore surveyed the room for several moments before he began speaking again. "Miss Patil has indeed hit upon the crux of the issue. The hatred need not be directed at a person for the curse to be effective, though it may very well be. Hatred is something which the human race in general seems to possess in abundance, and that hatred may be harnessed in order to allow a person to kill another. You will do well to remember that a killing curse may potentially come from an unexpected quarter—the caster does not have to hate you in order to kill you with it.
"In the example we were discussing, though your hate may allow you to cast the spell, a healer does not work in that fashion. The healer would more likely feel compassion than hatred. Though perhaps it is technically possible for a healer to use the curse to euthanize a patient, his oaths as a healer would prevent him from actually doing so.
"Thus, there is no practical application for using the curse, other than to kill an enemy whom you hate. I trust that for most of us in this room, evoking the necessary level of hatred would be impossible.
"There is indeed a branch of magic called the dark arts, and regardless of what you have been told," here Dumbledore did glance at a visibly dismissive Malfoy, "there are no good applications for this magic. Dark arts include the three Unforgivables, a few other curses, certain potions which are meant only to harm, and different rituals and other magics which are specifically intended to cause harm, or which cause harm in the process of completing them. Make no mistake about it—if you perform a ritual which benefits you, but which harms someone else, the magic is dark in nature."
He stopped for a moment and watched the class, clearly allowing them to digest the information he had just imparted to them. Harry glanced around as surreptitiously as he could and though Malfoy was nonchalant and unconcerned, most of the rest the class looked thoughtful. Even some of the Slytherins—who he would have expected to be as dark as Malfoy—appeared to be as thoughtful as the rest of the class. The information caused a whole new tangent in Harry's thoughts—he had never truly had a lot of congress with the Slytherins, and he had as a result painted them largely with the same brush as Malfoy. There almost certainly was something to what the Headmaster had told him the previous day.
"Now, some of you may be wondering why I'm telling you this," Dumbledore continued. "There are several reasons. The first is because we have not been able to keep a Defense Professor for more than a year at a time; I'm not certain exactly what your professors have taught you.
"The second reason is that despite what our Minister is saying, our Mr. Potter did indeed witness the rebirth of the Dark Lord last year."
Harry blushed at the sudden scrutiny under which he found himself, as a rumble of noise broke out over the classroom. Surely everyone knew the story by now, but he had never truly told the tales of his adventures in such a public forum.
"Therefore, I want everyone to be aware of the seriousness of the situation," Dumbledore's voice once again cut through the discussion. "Everyone here knows that Voldemort's Death Eaters have a propensity toward heavy usage of the dark arts."
The winces at the wizard's name caused Dumbledore to pause for a moment, before he continued in a slightly admonishing tone. "The fear to use a contrived name merely grants Voldemort a power to which he has no claim. It is only a name—not even the one with which he was born—and none of us should fear to say it.
"Now, to continue, I wish for everyone at this school to understand what we are dealing with when we oppose the dark arts. What you should all take from this discussion is that the dark arts can and will be used against you, if a Death Eater ever gets the opportunity. You must know the dark arts to be able to defend yourself and your loved ones, whether you are able to strike back or not. The ability to defend until you are able to flee may keep you alive one day. Now, I believe we should begin as we have much to cover."
It was readily apparent that the Headmaster was not only a powerful wizard, but he also possessed a deep understanding of the dark arts, and extensive knowledge on how to combat them. Furthermore, he proved himself a gifted teacher as he patiently taught the students, showing a knack for demonstration, explanation, and coaxing the best out of every student in the room. Harry was amazed—if this man had been the Defense teacher throughout his time at the school, he was not certain how anyone could have avoided becoming gifted in the subject.
All in all, it was an enjoyable time, and far more illuminating than Harry had ever experienced before in Defense class. The only problem was that it was not destined to last—as Headmaster, he could hardly be expected to have the time to continue to teach the class indefinitely. Besides, he had already announced that the new Defense Professor would be arriving after winter holidays. Until then, they would just have to make the most of the opportunity to learn from one of the great leaders of their time.
The class continued apace, and before Harry knew it, they were nearing the end of the allotted time. For the last half of the class, Dumbledore had been pairing the members of the class off for some practice in dueling, and had even had several pairs face off in practice duels in front of the class where he could observe them directly. He pointed out to the class the things that each duelist had done wrong, and which had been done right, attempting to get them to learn through practical experience.
He scanned the room, and his eyes rested on Harry and Hermione, and he smiled at the two of them. "Miss Granger, I have been watching you and Mr. Potter for some time now. Perhaps you could both come up here and demonstrate your abilities for the rest of the class?"
Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. He was not reluctant to do as the Headmaster had asked, except for the idea of being on display yet again. However, Fleur's words that he should strive to be exceptional filtered back to his mind at that moment and he decided that showing and example to everyone else was a good place to start.
"A Mudblood and a teacher's pet," a scoffing voice said softly behind him.
Harry was not about to deign to respond to the ferret—his opinion meant nothing after all—but the words had been spoken too loudly. It was clear that the Headmaster had heard him speak.
"Would you like to speak up, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore said, staring at the blond.
Malfoy colored slightly, but whether or not one was correct in attacking his credibility and capabilities, a lack of audacity was apparently not one of his traits.
"I said that you favor them," Malfoy responded. "It's obvious the way you fawn over Potter, and Granger is not much better. It's really quite sickening—neither is anything special."
"I was not aware that I had treated anyone in this class different than anyone else," responded Dumbledore with more than a hint of steel in his voice. "In fact, I distinctly remember Mr. Potter and Miss Granger instinctively grasping today's lesson with little help from me—I have only exchanged a few words with them the entire class."
His face turning slightly red, Malfoy's expression became tight, and he refused to respond to the Headmaster.
"Surely you must have some other reason for your words, Mr. Malfoy. Shall you not share them? Or perhaps you would prefer to be paired up with Mr. Potter or Miss Granger for our last practice duel of the day."
Malfoy sneered. "I was taught by my father. I have no doubt that I would be able to beat either of them with little trouble. There is no way that either of them could match up with me."
"In that case, you will be given a chance to back up your words," Dumbledore stated. He regarded Harry and Hermione for a moment, and Harry was hoping that Dumbledore would pick him—he would love a chance to take the prick down a peg or two. And best of all—he would not get into trouble for it!
At length, however, Dumbledore smiled at Hermione, and motioned her forward. "Miss Granger, I believe you would be perfect for this little demonstration, if you will oblige the class."
"The Mudblood?" Malfoy scoffed. "At least Potter might stand a chance—with her it will be over before it is even begun."
"That will be five points for the use of that disgusting word, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said harshly. "Do not repeat it again, as the next time I hear it from your mouth will cost you a week's detention."
Malfoy glared at the Headmaster, but somewhat out of character, he chose to remain silent. Instead, he grasped his wand tightly in his right hand and strode in to the middle of the classroom, turning his baleful glare on Hermione.
Of course, Hermione was hardly fazed by his display of bravado—she had faced him down many times before. It was well known—to all but Malfoy and his cronies—that the boy was ten parts bluster to one part competence. Regardless of Malfoy's misplaced confidence, Harry did not expect this practice duel to last more than a few moments, and had no doubt that Hermione would defeat him.
The two combatants faced off against one another with Dumbledore taking his position as referee between them. "Remember, no questionable curses," he said as he looked pointedly at Malfoy. "Your goal is to disable so your opponent is no longer able to continue."
He looked across at each combatant, confirming their acceptance of the rules, before he stepped back and cast a large shield charm which surrounded Hermione and Malfoy, and protected the rest of the students observing the match. After a moment, sparks issued from his wand, signaling the start of the match.
"Bombarda!" Malfoy yelled, immediately going on the offensive.
If he had expected the match to end quickly in his favor, he was to be disappointed as Hermione merely shifted gracefully to one side, avoiding the hex. In quick succession, she had cast a shield charm over herself before she shouted, "Stupefy!" in response to Malfoy's bludgeoning hex.
Hastily, Malfoy cast a shield charm and responded with a quick, "Diffindo!"
Once again, Hermione stepped to the side, while her wand moved fluidly. "Expeliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!"
The hexes rolled off her tongue in quick succession, causing Malfoy to work his wand desperately in an attempt to deflect or shield them all. The first he managed to dodge, while the two stunning hexes impacted on his shield. The body bind curse, however, blew through the remains of Malfoy's shield, and hit him in the chest. Immediately, Malfoy's arms and legs snapped together and he toppled to the floor, losing his grip on his wand which rolled away from him.
The look on the boy's face was almost comical. He was enraged at being defeated by a mere Mudblood, though he also displayed equal parts shame and an almost malevolent, murderous anger. Cat-calls and whistles sounded as Dumbledore lowered the shield and congratulated Hermione, all of which she accepted with a bow and a smile. Not once did she even glance in Malfoy's direction, though Harry himself would undoubtedly have taunted the boy with the ease of his defeat.
Stepping over to the prone blond, Dumbledore's quick finite ended his confinement. The boy immediately jumped to his feet, his fists clenched with rage as he glared belligerently at Hermione. The girl in question paid him little notice, however—she merely peered at him disinterestedly. Her friends, however, were not taking any chances; Harry stepped forward almost in concert with Ron and Neville to flank her, each directing a glare at the Malfoy scion.
"Did you have something you wished to say, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore inquired. But though his expression was placid—genial, almost—his voice was hard and demanded attention.
Malfoy scowled once again before he stalked over to pick up his wand and, retrieving it, returned to stand next to his friends, who perhaps appeared more stunned than they had a right to be.
"Now, can anyone tell me exactly what went wrong for Mr. Malfoy and, conversely, what Miss Granger did right?"
"Malfoy was overconfident," said Harry with a contemptuous glance at his nemesis. "He assumed that he was better than Hermione and believed he would win easily."
"Not that the ponce would have beaten her anyway," said Ron in a stage whisper.
Suppressed snorts and giggles broke out all over the room, prompting an even deeper scowl to appear on Malfoy's face. Though he betrayed no outward response to Ron's comment, Dumbledore's eyes appeared to twinkle even more than was their wont.
"That will be two points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," he stated. "It is not very kind to taunt one who has been bested by a superior opponent."
Harry, who was watching the git's response, noted the flaring of his nostrils and the narrowing of his eyes as he was clearly affronted at hearing Hermione be referred to as "superior" to him. He kept his temper this time, however, merely glaring balefully at Hermione, Harry, and Dumbledore alternately.
"But in essence, Mr. Potter is correct. Mr. Malfoy did not take Miss Granger seriously, and paid the price in the end.
"Now, can anyone point out anything that Miss Granger did correctly which allowed her to win the match?"
It was far too short for that, Harry thought with some sarcasm. And indeed, it seemed as though the others in the class were having some difficulty coming up with something that Hermione had done correctly, other than to put the arrogant ponce in his place.
"Her spells were cast quickly?" Susan Bones ventured hesitantly.
"Very good, Miss Bones," answered Dumbledore. "Once Miss Granger dodged the first spell and shielded herself, she immediately went on the offensive and cast several spells in succession. It is very difficult to attack someone else if you are consistently trying to defend against the other person's attack.
"Let this be a lesson to you all," he continued, his manner serious and stern. "You should never take an enemy lightly, whether that enemy is the most powerful wizard alive or the greenest first year in the school.
"Furthermore, I am aware that part of Mr. Malfoy's mistake was to consider Miss Granger inferior simply due to their respective backgrounds." By now, Dumbledore was gazing directly at Malfoy, his tone and mien that of the most accomplished wizard of the age. Malfoy did not respond, however—he contented himself with glaring back at the Headmaster with defiance written all over his face.
"Let me be rightly understood," said Dumbledore in a commanding tone of voice, "your background, specifically who your parents were, and how long magic has been in your family is irrelevant. Some of the most powerful and capable wizards and witches I have ever known were Muggleborn, and conversely, I have known some extremely capable Purebloods. All any of you should worry about are your own studies and your own abilities. In the future, I expect everyone in this—and every other—class to show the proper respect to everyone else who attends. Do not underestimate your opponents or fall into the trap of believing you are better because of your background. In the end, we are all human, regardless of whom our parents were."
The class broke up very quickly after that, the conversation about what had just happened was animated. Harry, along with his other friends and year-mates, crowded around Hermione, congratulating her for defeating the arrogant Pureblood. Malfoy stormed from the room in a rage, pulling his cronies along behind him. A few of the other Slytherins who were not normally considered a part of his clique stood watching the events with some calculation evident on their faces.
Harry ignored them for the most part. He was excessively proud of Hermione for the way she had handled herself in the duel.
"Good show, Hermione!" said Ron, enthusiastically catching her up in a hug.
"Thank you, Ronald," replied Hermione, once he had stepped away. "He's not exactly a challenge—third year proved that."
That of course garnered some attention, and Hermione was forced to recount the events of that year, where she bloodied Malfoy's nose, which in turn prompted more conversation and laughter. It was not untrue to say that by the time the rest of the fifth years had made their way from the classroom that whatever credibility or dignity Malfoy still possessed was in tatters. Harry doubted that anyone would ever see the arrogant ponce as anything other than a whiny little Pureblood who rode on the coattails of his bully of a father.
The exit from the classroom kept the Pureblood ponce at the forefront of everyone's mind, as he had appeared to have waited there in ambush to confront the Gryffindors as they exited the room. Once Hermione had stepped into the hallway he placed himself directly in her path and glared aggressively at her, waving a finger in her direction.
"You filthy little Mudblood!" he hissed. "You will pay for raising your wand to me, you disgusting little whore!"
"Like I paid after I knocked you on your arse in third year?" Hermione asked with disdain. "You've always held a higher opinion of yourself than your abilities ever warranted."
"You will not speak to me!" Malfoy snapped, his wand held out in a threatening manner. "You come from a stock of Muggles and other filth, and are not even worthy to speak the name Malfoy."
Almost as one, the Gryffindors jumped to action, their wands held in their hands, pointed at the Slytherins who had taken position behind their leader. Harry held his wand pointed at Draco's face, and glared at the blond with pure loathing.
"Go ahead, ferret," he snarled. "Give me a reason to pay you back for all the misery you have caused since I've come to Hogwarts."
By this time, the remaining Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs—many of whom were members of the Defense Club—had taken flanking positions to support the Gryffindors. The Slytherins—of whom only Pansy, Millicent, Crabbe and Goyle were supporting the Malfoy heir—were decidedly outnumbered and some were looking uneasily at the array of wands pointed in their direction. Malfoy, however, was focused solely on Hermione, murder evident in his eyes.
"You're nothing but a jumped-up Half-blood, Potty," Malfoy sneered. "You and the Mudblood here—"
"That will be enough!" Dumbledore's voice boomed as he exited the Defense classroom, a worried Padma Patil at his heels. "All wands will be lowered immediately!"
Almost as one, wands fell to the users' sides, as the Headmaster's voice commanded respect and obedience.
"Wands are tools used for the focusing of one's magic, and should never be raised in anger in the hallways of a school," Dumbledore stated, while moving between the antagonists. "For each student who had their wand out, that will be a point deduction—do not ever let me see such a scene in the hallways of Hogwarts again."
Though there were some groans and muffled protests, no one spoke out loud, and Harry could not but admit that it was a fair punishment, regardless of who started the fight, or for what reason—belligerence or protection—their wands were out.
Dumbledore's attention was immediately on the Malfoy heir. "Mr. Malfoy, not fifteen minutes after I reprimanded you for using that vile insult and told you the consequences of its use, I hear you saying it once again. That will be a fifteen point deduction, and a week's detention with Mr. Filch. I advise you to avoid repeating it in the future, as the punishment will be much more severe."
The only response to the Headmaster's words was a tightening of the Slytherin's lips, and his continued belligerent glare. Apparently Dumbledore took his lack of response as all the acknowledgement he needed. After his words to Harry the previous day about his concern about Malfoy's ability to change, it was apparently the best he could expect.
"Now," Dumbledore's voice was quieter and more reasonable, "you are all dismissed. But you shall all remember that the school is no place for a pitched battle. If this behavior continues, suspensions and expulsions may result."
As soon as he was able, Malfoy turned on his heel and stalked away, his friends following close behind. Harry exchanged glances with his friends and turned to walk toward the Great Hall and dinner. They had not gone two steps before the Headmaster's voice interrupted, asking Harry to stay behind.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore began after the rest of the fifth years had filed away, "I understand you were protecting your friend and that Mr. Malfoy was the instigator, but I must ask you to exercise a little more restraint. The things that you are learning in Defense class, and that you are teaching in your club, are worthy and necessary for you to defend yourself, but equally important is the lesson of knowing when to use your knowledge, and when to avoid a fight."
Harry nodded. "I understand, Headmaster. But if Malfoy presses and starts something, we will finish it. And he will not like the result."
Sighing, the Headmaster nodded and steered Harry toward the Great Hall with a grandfatherly pat on his shoulders. "I understand, Harry. I do perceive the path which Mr. Malfoy treads, as I told you during our discussion yesterday. You and your friends have done an admirable job in keeping your tempers and not escalating this rivalry any more than it already is. I must ask for your patience as much as possible. Mr. Malfoy was intensely irate today, and I fear I must share the blame for the situation. I had meant merely to illustrate and teach a lesson, and I fear that the enmity has only deepened."
"It would have anyway," was Harry's response. "Malfoy has been nothing but trouble from the first time I met him on the train. We won't start anything with him or with his friends, but we won't sit back and allow him to bully us either."
"Understandable. I appreciate your continued restraint, and request that you let me, or one of the other professors know if the situation deteriorates any further. I will leave you to dinner with your friends. I fear that there are matters which demand my attention."
Harry watched Dumbledore walk away, reflecting that his words showed much wisdom. Instinctively, however, he knew that no one would ever be able to reach Malfoy. He would end up a Death Eater, and as such, if Harry had his way, he would end up dead, or in Azkaban. No other fate would do; otherwise he would continue to be a menace and a danger. No one would be allowed to hurt any of Harry's friends. He would not allow it.
Fleur left her class that afternoon with no knowledge of what was happening in and after Defense, but with problems of her own. Upon leaving her last class of the day, she returned to the common room in the company of her seventh year friends. Knowing that Defense would run late that day, she decided to do a little research for an upcoming charms project before meeting Harry for dinner.
The library was quiet, as usual, and given that it was the hour before dinner, it was fairly lightly populated, most of the students apparently choosing to use the time for leisure, rather than study. Fleur knew that later in the evening, the room would most likely be busier as students got down to the business of studying and preparing for the year end exams. Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Fleur made her way through the library, and after finding two books which she had specifically wished to investigate, she made her way to the table which Hermione always used when she was in the library, and began flipping through the books, looking for the pertinent information she required.
It was understandable why Hermione preferred this particular table, Fleur mused as she scanned the books. It was out of the way and quiet, even by the library's standards, and it was also close to a wide variety of subjects and advanced spell books. It was also quite close to the restricted section, should one have a pass for that area of the library, and very convenient. Another benefit to that particular table was the fact that it was quite large and many friends could sit there and study together quite easily. Trust the bookish Hermione to find such a treasure.
Having only sat at the table for a few moments, Fleur was surprised when she heard the sudden creaking of one of the chairs. She looked up, startled, to see Roger grinning at her.
"Hello, Roger," greeted Fleur. She plastered a weak smile on her face and tried to hide the distinct lack of enthusiasm she felt at his presence—how successfully, she was not entirely certain.
Appearing to take no notice at her rather lukewarm greeting, Roger's smile became even larger. "Hey, Fleur—fancy meeting you here."
"I just thought I'd do a bit of research before dinner," Fleur replied
She hoped he would take the hint and leave, or at the very least sit quietly while she searched through the books for the information she needed. It was not to be, however, as Roger appeared to be keen to engage her in conversation—more, even, than normal.
"So what are you working on?"
"I just wanted to find a little more information for our charms assignment," was Fleur's response as she once again looked down into the book.
"Right, the charms assignment," replied Roger with a knowing smile. "How is it coming, by the way?"
Fleur sighed and closed the book, thinking to herself that it would be coming along much better if a certain young man of her acquaintance would leave her alone. "Still planning and researching, but I think it's coming together. How is yours?"
A look of studied nonchalance fell over Roger's face. "I'm getting there. But I was wondering if you wanted to combine our projects—work on it together."
Frowning slightly, Fleur wondered what his purpose for this suggestion was. After all, Professor Flitwick had specifically stated that it was to be an individual project. And as it was to count against the grading of her NEWTs at the end of the year, Fleur was not exactly willing to chance having her grade lowered because she did not follow the professor's instructions.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Roger," she stated as gently as she could. "You heard Professor Flitwick—this is supposed to be an individual effort."
Though she thought she detected a flash of something resembling annoyance in his expression, Roger masked it well. He just smiled and moved his chair closer to hers, while reaching out to take her hand in one of his own.
"I'm not suggesting we cheat," he said while stroking the back of her hand. "I'm just saying we should work on it together. You know—to come up with ideas, check each other's work, support each other—two heads are better than one, you know."
Shocked, Fleur pulled her hand from his grasp and glared at him. "That's rather inappropriate, Roger."
"There's nothing inappropriate about it," Roger replied, reaching out to take her hand again. He bestowed a kiss upon its back, and once again shuffled his seat a little closer to her. "To be honest, the studying time is just a fringe benefit. I'd like us to get closer again like we did last year. Maybe we could pick up where we left off."
He bent his head, apparently intending to kiss her, when Fleur stood and once again ripped her hand from his grasp. "Roger, this is completely inappropriate behavior. I would ask you to stop."
"Why?" Roger asked, standing and facing her with a half smile on his face. "Why should it be inappropriate for two people who have feelings for one another to show their affection?"
"I think you are overstating my feelings," responded Fleur rather forcefully. "No such feelings exist, and even if they did, it appears to have escaped your attention that I am now betrothed."
At this, Roger's face twisted into an ugly sneer. "Betrothed to a boy with delusions of grandeur—someone who is undeservedly held up on a pedestal and lauded, though he has really done nothing to deserve it."
Stunned by the vitriol in Roger's voice, Fleur gazed back at him with some astonishment. Roger had never given her any indication in the past that he disliked Harry, or that he felt the way his words suggested.
"It appears to me that you don't know Harry," Fleur said with a shake of her head. "He is not as you said, and he would be the first to brush off the fame of surviving the Killing Curse as something he had no control over."
"That doesn't matter," said Roger, once again stepping toward her with his hand extended. Fleur instinctively moved back out of his immediate reach, not wishing to give him any leverage to use against her.
"Come, Fleur—we had it good last year. I know you felt it too. Why shouldn't we have a little fun and romance together while we're young? There's nothing tying you down now."
"I'm betrothed!" Fleur snapped. "That ties me down."
"But Potter is always with that Granger girl," Roger wheedled. "Who knows what he's getting up to with her all the time—why shouldn't you have the same opportunity?"
"I trust Harry and Hermione," was Fleur's response. "Besides, I think you are grossly exaggerating any relationship you and I might have had. We had one date at the Yule Ball, which I did not find enjoyable in the slightest. Even if Harry had not entered my life, I certainly would not be pining for you."
Once again Roger's face twisted in a sneer, which reminded Fleur very much of as similar expression she had often seen on the face of a certain Pureblood bigot. "You owe me, Fleur!" he said while jabbing a finger at her pointedly. "I know it was going so well when we left the Yule Ball, but then you had to trick me with your Veela powers and leave me alone in the garden."
"I owe you nothing," snapped Fleur. "Whatever you saw between us was nothing more than your overactive imagination. I'm happy with Harry. I'm sorry, but you were never in the picture."
"In that case, I hope you're happy with the little fame monger," Roger spat. "He's just the right type for someone like you." Roger laughed unpleasantly. "He wanders around with you and that other girl in a daze, and even when he holds your hand he doesn't seem to know what to do with it. Enjoy your time with your little puppy—I think soon enough you'll regret your decision."
With that, Roger stalked from the library, leaving a bewildered Fleur struggling to understand what had just happened. Was it all because of jealousy, or what had happened between them after the ball, or was it something else which was fueling Roger's resentment? He had never given any indication of these feelings before, and the accusations he had hurled concerning Harry were worrisome, though Fleur knew that she should not give them any credence in the slightest.
Though she was comfortable with Harry, a part of her had been a little concerned with the slowness at which their relationship had been developing. Perhaps it was time to push their relationship a little? Fleur had no answers, unfortunately; she knew they were both exploring their new status as best they could.
His accusations regarding Harry she dismissed as nothing more than jealousy. She knew Harry, and she knew that he was not as Roger had stated. Harry was a good person, and she knew she would never need to worry about Harry trying his best to make her happy. They just needed to find their way together.
Having calmed slightly due to her thoughts, Fleur gathered her things together and returned the books to their places on the shelves. She would talk to Harry some time in the near future about their relationship. Together they would figure it out.
Updated 06/13/2013