Chapter 22 – A Change in Stance

That evening at dinner came an announcement which was unexpected, though it was certainly welcome to many of those listening—especially the young women attending the school. Harry and his friends had just arrived in the Great Hall, and were lounging at the house table discussing the events of and immediately following Defense class, not to mention directing sly smirks at the still-enraged Malfoy scion. A single glance at the tosser's ruddy complexion and implacable glare showed clearly that he still had not managed to contain his anger. To the surprise of the assembled students Dumbledore stood from his spot at the head table and motioned for silence.

"I hope you have all enjoyed your classes today," he began when the noise had quieted. "We have had some trying times at Hogwarts recently, and I hope that things will now improve. I wish everyone to know that I will do my best to ensure that you will all have the knowledge you require when the next Defense Professor finally arrives in January. Until then, I truly relish the opportunity to teach. As you all know, I have not spent much time in a classroom in many years, and I find myself once again enjoying the experience.

"But enough of my rambling," he continued with a benevolent smile. "The true reason for my boring you with my overly wordy lecture is to inform everyone that we have decided to introduce a new tradition to our yearly activities at Hogwarts."

Murmurs broke out as the students began to speculate on what this new tradition could possibly be. Harry and his friends merely exchanged glances and turned their attention back to the Headmaster who was watching the students with some affection evident on his countenance. The man was at heart an educator, who truly seemed to enjoy his time with the students.

"We have decided that since the Yule Ball last year was such a success, we will make it a tradition every year at Hogwarts."

At Dumbledore's words, the hall once again burst into noisy murmurs as the students absorbed this news. Looking around, Harry noticed that most of his classmates seemed to be excited about the idea, ready and eager for a night of dancing, listening to music and, most importantly, impressing those of the other sex. He would also have to have been blind to have missed the speculative glances which were directed at him from all over the hall, though most of those glances turned sour as they turned to the radiant blonde sitting by his side.

Fleur seemed to be taking the announcement with a certain amount of eagerness—no doubt she was happy to put the memories of the last Yule Ball to rest in favor of some more pleasant memories with her betrothed. She shot a glance at Harry, her eyebrows raised in question, to which he responded with a smirk and a nod. The expression of smugness which came over her face at their little exchange caused the other girls' faces to turn even sourer, but Harry did not care. He would not need to worry about his date and put off asking someone until the last second this time—no, this time he would attend with the most beautiful girl in the school on his arm. In fact, now that he thought of it, a ghost of an idea began to form in his mind…

"As with last year's ball," Dumbledore continued, interrupting his thoughts, "This ball, and all future balls, will be open to fourth years and up. Those in first, second and third years will have their own party in another part of the castle, though they may attend the Yule Ball if they are asked by someone who is old enough to attend.

"This ball will be held on the final Friday of the year, and you will return to your homes the day after on the express. Please remember that there will be a Hogsmeade weekend the week before the ball, so if there is any finery which needs to be procured, that will be the day to do so."

Dumbledore smiled with some amusement at the students before he clapped his hands together once and gestured to the tables. "Now, I believe I have kept you from your dinner for quite long enough."

The volume in the hall once again rose as the Headmaster took his seat and the students began eating their dinner and talking all at once. The discussion around Harry's place was animated, with the girls generally being excited at the prospect of another dance, while the boys were of mixed emotions. Ron particularly seemed to be reacting in much the same manner as he had the previous year, though Harry did notice him sneak a few looks in Hermione's direction. If Hermione had accepted his request to date he would have had a date already, but as that had not happened, he was clearly a little put out that she had rejected him. Ron had made a lot of progress, but he seemed as though he had still not completely come to terms with the reality of the situation.

Knowing that his own feelings on the occasion were in marked contrast to what Ron was feeling and not wishing to give the touchy redhead a reason to be jealous, Harry avoided looking at his friend, instead concentrating on another one of his friends. Since the announcement of the ball, Neville had sat with the rest of the group without adding much to the conversation. Neville's expression was pensive and thoughtful, but his frequent glances at the Ravenclaw table were both telling, and somewhat amusing. It appeared as though the past few months which had pointed toward a budding romance between the shy Gryffindor and a certain ethereal Ravenclaw were about to be proved as fact rather than speculation.

Smiling to himself, Harry took his attention away from his friend. He hoped Neville was able to gather the courage necessary to ask Luna to the ball, but he had himself to think of at that moment. It was time to make a splash.

Plotting, Harry waited until he—and his target—had finished their dinner. As the time neared for them to return to the common room for the evening, he abruptly stood and turned to face Fleur. In an extravagant manner he knelt on one knee and gathered Fleur's hand in his own and, noting her slightly surprised but amused smile, he returned it with a grin of his own before he spoke.

"Miss Delacour, as the most beautiful girl in the room and as my fair betrothed, I would be honored if you would deign to accompany me to the Yule Ball." Harry extended his wand and with a flourish, conjured a yellow rose with a red highlights at the end of the petals, remembering a magazine of his aunt's which had listed the meanings of various flowers. "Please accept this rose as a token of my esteem and my joy that we have been brought together."

Fleur blushed slightly and reached out to accept the rose. Bringing it close to her face, she inhaled the scent deeply, before favoring him with a dazzling smile. "I would love to attend the ball with you, kind sir. I thank you for choosing me out of all the girls you could have favored with your attention."

"No, my dear," Harry continued in an exaggeratedly gallant manner. "With such radiance before me, I could never even conceive of taking anyone else to the ball. I will appear as nothing more than a poor country cousin next to your brilliance."

Smirking, Fleur leaned toward Hermione, who was gazing at Harry in shock, as though she did not know him. "He's definitely a keeper, Hermione," she said with a little laugh. "I'm glad you trained him so well."

"I certainly didn't teach him that," Hermione murmured in response.

"I am sure you will acquit yourself quite well indeed, Mr. Potter," said Fleur, turning her attention back to Harry. "I await the ball with breathless anticipation."

Bowing, Harry kissed Fleur's hand before he stood and pulled her to her feet, all to the thunderous applause which burst over the Great Hall. Smirking, Harry turned and bowed slightly in all directions, noting the cheering, and the now softened faces of many of the girls who had previously been glaring at Fleur. There was nothing like a hint of romance to soften the demeanor of any girl.

In passing, he also noted the disdainful sneer etched on the still-furious face of one poncy ferret. Harry made it a special point to flip a jaunty salute in Malfoy's direction, gleefully noting the haughty glare he received in response, before he took Fleur's hand and placed it on his arm, and guided her from the room.

Hermione, who had joined them and was walking at Harry's other side, frowned and peered at Harry. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

Smirking, Harry shrugged once. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time," he said blandly. "I've spent every moment of my existence in the magical world wishing I wasn't famous. I figure there's nothing I can do about it, so I may as well use it to my advantage."

His answer appeared to bring Hermione up short, but after a moment she nodded and grinned at Fleur. "There, Fleur. You see? He's growing up all by himself."

Laughing, Fleur grasped Harry's arm a little tighter. "He'll do just fine, Hermione."

She directed a pointed look at Hermione, which in response the brunette flushed a little. But before Harry could give some thought as to what was passing between the two girls, he heard a voice calling for them to wait. Harry stopped and turned to see a young, redhead girl approaching.

Susan Bones gazed at him with a certain admiration, before she laughed and addressed him. "Smooth, Potter—really smooth. You could have had just about any girl in the hall falling at your feet had you asked them instead of Fleur."

"Well, what can I say?" Harry asked with a smirk. "Some of us have it, and others—"

He stopped suddenly as his two companions, acting in concert, smacked him in the back of his head, prompting a delighted laugh from Susan.

"Methinks someone has an exaggerated opinion of his own charm," Hermione said to Fleur.

"Perhaps," responded Fleur with a grin at Harry, who was now rubbing the back of his head and grumbling. "I can take his charm as long as he directs it at me."

"What can we do for you, Susan?" Harry asked, deciding it was best to simply ignore his friends' banter.

"Umm… Can I have a minute of your time?" Susan Bones asked, suddenly appearing nervous.

Though he did not know Susan well at all, Harry knew her to be a bright and pleasant sort of girl. She had red hair—though more of an orange color, unlike the Weasley family's fiery locks—blue eyes, and was of average stature, and though she was perhaps a trifle too pleasantly plump for Harry's tastes, she was not unattractive. Moreover, the way she had handled herself in Defense class with Umbridge—not to mention the few times he had seen her in the Defense Club—told him that she was competent. In addition, though they had never talked much, she had always appeared to him to be a rather friendly person.

"Sure, Susan, what would you like?"

Susan glanced around the hall and gestured toward an empty anteroom. "Can we step inside that room for a moment?"

Intrigued, Harry motioned for her to lead the way. They trooped into the room and stopped as Susan turned to face them. Now that Harry had a chance to stop and look, his earlier impression of her nervousness was confirmed in the way she was wringing her hands and peering at them uncertainly. It was something he had never seen from her before.

"Harry," she began, the slight quaver in her voice reinforcing his observations. "I have someone I'd like to introduce to you. Someone who is interested in joining the club," she finished in a rush.

At Harry's raised eyebrow, she scowled and fixed him with a determined glare. "Well, you did say that we were welcome to pass the word to those we considered trustworthy. And besides, I figured that with Umbridge gone that secrecy was not really much of an issue any more."

"That's true I guess," Harry admitted. "Who is it?"

Susan's indignation faded and once again a slight sense of nervousness appeared to settle over her. "Well, she's a friend of mine—her family and mine have been friends for years. She said that she has some other friends and housemates who are also interested in attending."

"And who is it?" Harry asked, becoming somewhat suspicious of her. She would not have acted this way if she intended to simply introduce someone she thought would be good for the club—it must be someone she was afraid he would reject.

Appearing to come to a decision, Susan squared her shoulders and declared resolutely, "Daphne Greengrass."

Surprised, Harry's eyebrow once again rose at the girl's statement. Of course he knew who Daphne was—the year groups at Hogwarts were small enough that it was easy to remember everyone's name. His shock was more due to the fact that it was difficult to believe that anyone would invite a Slytherin to the club, knowing in general what that house stood for—and to a large extent, who they stood for.

Harry was about to respond in such a manner, when a snippet from his conversation with the Headmaster the previous evening entered his mind.

"I would caution you against painting the entire house with the same brush."

Mulling it over in his mind, Harry wondered about the Headmaster's statement, and his own prejudices against the house of the snake. Had his early experiences with Malfoy jaded him against the entire house? Were they all like Malfoy and his father? Could he trust any of them to watch his back and oppose Voldemort?

The obvious answer to his questions was, of course, that yes, he had allowed Malfoy to prejudice him against Slytherin whether his bias was warranted or not. All throughout his first four years and part of the fifth, the Pureblood ponce had gone out of his way to proclaim how superior he was, and how inferior he considered others to be and Harry, not truly having much to do with any of Malfoy's housemates, had subconsciously painted them all with the same brush. Was there some good to be found in Slytherin house? Of the answer to that question he was not certain—he did not have enough experience with them to come to any conclusion, after all—but perhaps for the first time, he considered the question without resorting to the biases of the past. As Dumbledore had so astutely noted, not all Gryffindors were noble and good. It stood to reason that not all Slytherins could be dark, bigoted supporters of Voldemort either.

With this new outlook in mind, Harry focused his attention back on Susan. "Do you trust Daphne?"

"As I said, she's been a friend for a long time. In fact, with my aunt being so busy at the DMLE, I often will stay several weeks with the Greengrasses during the summer. Daphne's mum and my mum were best friends at Hogwarts."

"And you mentioned some others," Harry prompted. "Do you know who they are, or how many? Are we to be overrun by Slytherin students eager to improve their defense skills?"

Susan ignored Harry's feeble attempts at humor—perhaps wisely, Harry reflected in a rueful manner. "I would imagine that her little sister Astoria and her friend Tracey Davis would be involved, but other than them, I don't know who else she has in mind—if anyone."

"I think we should meet them first," said Hermione. "Slytherin house doesn't exactly have a sterling reputation and I think that we should get some indication from them why they want to be involved."

An indignant expression appeared on Susan's face, but her words were neatly preempted by a conciliatory Fleur. "We don't want to imply your friends aren't trustworthy, Susan. We just want to meet them for ourselves—Slytherin in general has not been kind to Harry, nor have they been welcoming to Hermione or me."

"Besides, what do you think the reaction would be to a bunch of Slytherins suddenly walking in on our meeting?"

Grudgingly Susan allowed both Hermione and Fleur's points in a tight nod. "So, when did you want to meet them?"

"Tomorrow after dinner?" Harry suggested. "Wednesday is our next meeting. We could talk to them and if they check out, we could introduce them to everyone then."

"Thanks, Harry," Susan said, clearly relieved that the discussion had gone so well. After a few more moments in which they arranged a time and place to meet the Slytherins the next day she exited the room.

Harry exchanged glances with his two female companions. "Well, what do you think?"

Grimacing, Hermione said, "While all my experience with Slytherin says that they can't be trusted, I must admit I don't really know Daphne and Tracey. They've always seemed to be pretty aloof in the past, but that could just be because we don't know them."

"Or it could be because of the whole 'house of the ambitious and cunning' thing," Harry retorted sourly.

"There isn't much we can do but wait and see," Fleur interjected. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. The only thing you can do now is talk to them and see what they have to say."

Deep in thought, Harry nodded his assent before leading the girls from the room. While he knew that speaking with Daphne's group was the right thing to do, a part of him wished that he could just go on believing that all Slytherins were evil and leave it at that. That outlook was, at the very least, much less complicated.

Daphne Greengrass was a pretty young woman with a wealth of lustrous black hair and startling deep blue eyes. She was of average height and possessed a slim build, and she carried herself with confidence and poise. And as she sat in the empty classroom gazing at Harry, he wondered what type of person she truly was.

To Harry, she had always seemed quiet and uncommunicative, though he had to admit that he had, at times, witnessed her in moments when she had been open and even engaging with her friends. Her quiet persona was possibly due to the fact that she was guarded in dealings with those she did not know, or it could be because her reticence was simply due to shyness—Harry was not certain. Her frank gaze at that moment, however, seemed to suggest that she was not shy of him. Instead, her gaze was confident and assured.

By contrast, her friend Tracey Davis was dumpy and plain, her face framed by limp, mousy brown hair which was gathered haphazardly into a messy ponytail, though several strands had escaped their confinement. Tracey, Harry knew, was garrulous and outgoing, if her loud peals of laughter and constantly chatty demeanor he had observed was to be believed.

Of the others in the room, Harry knew even less. Blaise Zabini was of African descent, and was a tall, broad shouldered boy in Harry's year, with short cropped black hair. His taciturnity was legendary, to the extent that not even those of his own house knew much about him. He was considered to be an antisocial loner, who was disparaged by Malfoy and his crew almost as much as they disparaged Harry himself. Whether this had ever bothered the boy was completely unknown—he had the most impenetrable poker face Harry had ever seen on another person.

The final three were even more of an enigma. Astoria Greengrass was a younger copy of her older sister, the only major difference between the two being her much lighter shade of ice blue eyes. Nigel Johnson was a seventh year who Harry had only noticed a few times in passing, while Greta White was a fourth year, pretty and blond, but with a sneering, superior expression of which Malfoy would almost have been envious.

The six sat at various desks around the empty classroom, holding themselves aloof from the three Gryffindors and one Hufflepuff, but Harry had to suppress a smile at the thought of the proud and haughty Slytherins appearing before him like some supplicant pilgrims. Slytherins, by their very nature, never did something without there being some benefit for themselves, their families, or their house. Harry was intrigued to discover exactly what these six felt they could gain.

Susan handled the introduction of Daphne to the three Gryffindors, who then proceeded to introduce the others. Once the formalities had been concluded, they got down to business.

"We understand that you have started a Defense Club and would like to inquire about joining," Daphne said without preamble. It seemed that she had been appointed spokesman for the group.

"We have," Harry confirmed simply.

"Then how does one go about joining?" demanded Tracey.

"It's an invitation only club," said Harry. "In response, I would inquire why you would want to join a Defense Club run by a bunch of hotheaded Gryffindors."

"The fact that we want to learn more about Defense isn't enough?" asked Daphne.

"In a world where Voldemort is on the loose and certain members of Slytherin house openly support him it is most certainly not enough."

At the winces the use of the Dark Lord's name produced, Harry scowled. "Look, if you are to join our group, you will need to learn not to flinch every time someone mentions the name Voldemort. It's just a stupid name he made up because he doesn't like his Muggle name. Ask Fleur if you want to know what it means."

"I know enough French to translate it, thank you very much," said Daphne somewhat primly. Then a contemplative expression stole over her face and she regarded him openly. "You still claim that… the Dark Lord has returned do you?"

"It's the truth." Harry shrugged. "Why would I claim anything else? I swore an oath on my magic at the first meeting of the club, so if you don't believe me, ask anyone who was there."

The members of Slytherin house all shared a look before they turned their attention back to Harry. "In that case, it seems like we have all the more reason to learn how to defend ourselves."

At Harry's skeptical expression, Daphne threw her hands up in the air. "Honestly, Potter, I know you've had problems with certain members of our house, but not everyone in Slytherin is named 'Malfoy,' and not all of us stand for what he stands for. Not all Slytherins are slimy Death Eater wannabes."

"So you're not in Malfoy's camp?"

"Do we look like we're in Malfoy's camp?" demanded Tracey. "Think back, Potter—have you ever seen anyone here associating with Malfoy? Have any of us ever given you the grief that he gives you?"

"You haven't," Harry admitted. "In fact, I hardly know any of you."

"Then give us a chance," said Blaise, speaking for the first time. As a matter of fact, Harry could not say definitively that he had ever even heard the other boy's voice before now—he was that enigmatic.

Turning, Harry raised his eyebrows at the three girls. Fleur and Hermione said nothing, but Susan huffed in some impatience.

"I can certainly vouch for Daphne and Astoria, Harry. The others I don't know well, but I'm sure Daphne would not have brought them here if she didn't trust them."

"Really, it's their word that we have to take into account," Hermione said. She then turned to look at Harry. "What do you think?"

"I'm inclined to allow them to participate," said Harry, eyeing the Slytherins, thinking once again about Dumbledore's words. "If we start imagining everyone to be aligned with Voldemort, we'll end up paranoid, jumping at every shadow which crosses our paths."

"But we do have to be careful," cautioned Fleur.

"Agreed," said Harry evenly. "But I'm not going down that path."

"Would it help if we were to swear an oath?" asked Daphne in a dry tone of voice.

"I hardly think that is required," responded Hermione. She was regarding the other girl with an appraising eye, though Harry was uncertain whether it was because she knew something of Daphne, or something else. "I think your word will suffice for the time being. You will have to sign a register, which prevents you from betraying the club, though admittedly with Umbridge gone it's not as big an issue as it used to be."

"What happens if we do betray the club?" Daphne asked. Watching her body language and the casual way in which she asked the question Harry suspected that her question was based on nothing more than curiosity. Still, it would do to be watchful of these Slytherins for a time—he did not really know or trust them as of yet.

"Let's just say that it would be unpleasant," said Hermione without any further explanation. Up to this point, Hermione had been very evasive when questioned about what exactly she had done to the register, not even sharing it with her closest friends.

"Then how was I able to talk to Daphne about it?" asked Susan. She appeared somewhat perplexed.

"I based the ward on intent and actual harm," Hermione admitted slowly, clearly not wishing still to give up much information. "I won't share exactly what I did with it, as I don't want someone to come up with a way to circumvent it, but in a very basic sense, since you were not intending to cause the club any harm, the consequences were not activated. That's not all of it, but it does explain your ability to talk about it."

"That's a fairly complicated and advanced ward scheme," said Daphne. She appeared a little skeptical.

"That's our Hermione," Harry said with a look of pride at his closest friend. "She isn't just book learned, you know," he said in a teasing manner.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, embarrassed.

Harry merely gazed back at her, projecting an air of amused impudence.

The Slytherins appeared to accept this without further comment, though Daphne continued to peer at Hermione with some skepticism evident on her features. If Harry were to be completely honest with himself, he felt a little affronted on behalf of his friend. It seemed a typical sort of Slytherin reaction to assume themselves superior to Muggleborns—and everyone else, for that matter. Hermione was an extremely knowledgeable and even gifted witch. It was time that others started recognizing that fact, rather than this stupid blood nonsense which was pushed—and even passively accepted—by so many.

"We will sign your register," Daphne stated after meeting the gaze of the rest of her housemates. "As I said, none of us are part of Malfoy's group, and we want to learn to defend ourselves."

"Will this not cause difficulties in your house?" Harry asked.

Daphne snorted and several of the others either rolled their eyes or appeared to brush the question off with little or no concern. However, once again Daphne acted as the spokesman for the group. "Malfoy—and perhaps certain others—will undoubtedly make a stink about it once it becomes known. We're not really concerned about that."

"Only certain others?" was Harry's skeptical response.

"You are thinking like a Gryffindor, Potter," Tracey stated bluntly. "No doubt the house of the lion enjoys a certain amount of house unity. Slytherin is the house of the cunning and, more importantly, the ambitious. Unity is all well and good, but ambition does not foster trust and unity very well. It is difficult enough to realize your ambitions; trusting someone else can easily see you stabbed in the back."

"What Tracey is trying to say," interjected Daphne once again, "is that Slytherin, as a house, tends to be more everyone for themselves. About the only thing that unifies Slytherin at all is Quidditch and the house cup, and even then it's only superficial."

It was all very well and good for them to say that—they knew their house and their housemates better than Harry did, after all. But he could not help but think that they were downplaying the issue. Dumbledore's admonishments aside, Slytherin was a house essentially for the Purebloods and their very ideals fostered bigotry. Any fraternizing with the enemy—in this case Gryffindor and what Gryffindor house stood for—would surely bring the more conservative element of Slytherin out of the woodwork with a vengeance.

"Oh honestly, Potter," Daphne snapped in irritation, "why do you care about a bunch of Slytherins anyway? We told you it won't be a problem—shouldn't that be enough?"

"I care because I'm leading the club," Harry rejoined. "I don't teach anyone to become a target—I teach them so that hopefully they will be less of an enticing target, not to mention the effect I hope it will have on everyone's OWLs and NEWTs."

Daphne's face softened and she smiled ruefully. "I suppose I'm just not used to your… Gryffindor caring."

"Whatever," Tracey said with a grunt. "The fact of the matter is that any one of us here can take care of Malfoy right now without any further instruction, and the bunch of us together can hold off him and his cronies. Malfoy has a much higher opinion of his own capabilities than he truly possesses."

"As defense class today demonstrated," Daphne interjected with a grin at Hermione. "Nice work, by the way. It was good to see the 'Prince of Slytherin' taken down a notch and exposed for being the blowhard he is."

Harry grinned at his friend. "It's not the first time Hermione has taken him down, but it is probably the first time he's been shown up so thoroughly in front of the entire class."

"You'll have to tell us about it some time," Daphne said. "For now, all you have to be concerned with is the fact that we can defend ourselves when it comes to Malfoy and his gang. No one else in Slytherin will care enough to confront us over it.

"In fact," she continued with a smirk, "the more cunning will likely congratulate us for getting closer to you. They'll likely think we're using you and playing both sides."

"And are you?"

Daphne affected an innocent expression. "I can't tell you that now, can I? It would not be very cunning of me if I revealed my plans and motivations."

Harry decided right then and there that he liked Daphne. She was obviously intelligent, seemed sincere, and she had an understated sense of humor which he found infectious. He was almost persuaded; there was just one more thing which needed to be said.

"Very well then," he said, and when he continued, he tried to project a very serious and implacable air. "But one thing you must all understand. I don't know exactly what your feelings are or what your beliefs are regarding this blood purity nonsense, but there is no room for that in the Defense Club."

If he had expected any of the Slytherins to take offense—or even react at all—to his words he was disappointed. The six of them simply sat and watched him, expressionless, waiting for him to complete his instructions.

"Everyone in the club is equal," Harry continued, "and if you feel like you are better than Fleur or Hermione because of their ancestry, then I suggest you either bury those feelings deep or don't bother to join. As Hermione demonstrated in Defense class, she is the equal of anyone in any house, no matter what their blood status is."

Hermione appeared to be somewhat embarrassed at Harry's praise, but that did not stop him. He would not put up with anything which would cause either of his two companions any discomfort.

"Really, Potter," Daphne finally responded with a certain sense of exasperation, "do you think we would really be here if we bought into all that Pureblood stuff?"

"I don't know," Harry responded with a smirk. "You're Slytherins after all—you may simply be in this to get close to me."

Daphne and Tracey exchanged a glance and laughed. "Touché, Potter, touché," Tracey said. The Slytherins in general appeared to be somewhat amused at Harry's ability to throw the words of one of their own back at her. Perhaps he had gained a modicum of respect from these snakes.

"If it will help, none of us here put any stock in blood purity," Greta White spoke up for the first time. "Besides us swearing an oath, I'm not sure what else we can do to assure you of our sincerity."

Though his original opinion of her as a haughty girl was not appeased in the slightest as a result of her tone of voice, she at least appeared to be sincere. Harry could do nothing more than nod in response.

"Your word will do. I just wanted that fact understood before we go any further, and would prefer not to have to kick anyone out of the club if I can help it."

"Understandable," Daphne murmured.

Their impromptu meeting broke up soon after, with the Slytherins promising to arrive early to the club meeting on Wednesday in order to sign the register. Harry left the classroom pondering what had just occurred, not to mention the change in his attitude toward certain Slytherins. The next club meeting would undoubtedly prove to be interesting; no doubt, displeasure at their presence would come from several quarters.

As requested, the six Slytherins arrived about a half hour before the Club meeting was scheduled to begin. The signing of the register was accomplished in a moment, and though Harry would perhaps have expected members of the house of the ambitious to want a detailed explanation, or at least attempt through guile to discover some idea of what the consequences for betraying the club consisted, the Slytherins said nothing. They merely signed their names to the register and turned their attention to Harry, clearly expecting him to instruct them on what they could expect next.

Taking the lead, Harry used the time remaining before the meeting trying to determine exactly what level these new entrants were at, so the trio could properly determine where they fit in with the club. What he had expected from them as a group he certainly could not have said. The only Slytherins he had ever witnessed performing any actual magic were Malfoy and his group, as he had never made a habit of watching any Slytherins in any of his classes. Malfoy had been exposed as much more talk than competence, his book-end bodyguards were downright stupid, while Parkinson was certainly no threat herself. The only one who seemed to have any level of real skill to back up his threats was Nott, and Harry did not know enough about him to truly judge. Thus, his examples of Slytherin competence were not exactly sterling.

By contrast, these particular Slytherins appeared to be able to back whatever boasts they chose to make with their wands. Daphne and Tracey handled themselves with an understated confidence, and cast whatever spells Harry requested with no hesitation, and while finesse was perhaps not Blaise Zabini's strong point, he more than made up for that lack with brute strength. Nigel was quick and efficient with his casting, and while Greta and Astoria—the younger members—were perhaps not as polished or knowledgeable as their older companions, they appeared to understand the material at their level as well as could be expected.

It was obvious that in terms of sheer skill and competence, the Slytherins would fit into the club quite nicely. It would remain to be seen whether or not they would fit in socially.

When the clock was nearing seven, Harry asked the Slytherins to have a seat as they awaited the arrival of the rest of the club. They did what they were asked without protest, likely expecting that protests to their inclusion would come from certain quarters—Harry had told them he would handle any objections, and that they should keep their peace until they were asked to speak. He hoped he had imparted the need to adhere to his request with enough urgency—nothing they said would gain them acceptance, he felt. He would have to vouch for them; after that it would be up to them to prove themselves to the other members.

As the club began to filter in, Harry and his companions searched for reactions to the newcomers. They found surprise aplenty, though most showed no more than that.

It was nearing seven when Professors Flitwick and Dumbledore entered the room.

"Did you know that the Headmaster would be here, Harry?" Fleur asked quietly.

Harry shook his head. "He didn't mention anything to me."

"He obviously wants to see what we're doing," said Hermione.

By that time the two professors had made their way through the rows of chairs, and approached with smiles upon their faces. "Harry!" the Headmaster greeted jovially. "I hope you don't mind my attending. I thought I'd come and see how your club works."

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry responded, though in truth he was not at all enthusiastic about Dumbledore's presence. It was not every day that one had the school Headmaster—who also happened to be teaching Defense at present—sit in to see how well you were doing teaching others.

"I must admit to being curious myself," Flitwick chimed in. The excitable little Charms Professor had eagerly accepted Harry's request to become the staff sponsor for the club, and had even agreed to assist in the instruction of dueling practices.

"We hope we do not disappoint," said Hermione, though her easy smile belied any sense of nervousness her words may have engendered.

"Nonsense!" was Flitwick's jovial response. "I have every confidence in Mr. Potter's skill, and your ability to plan properly with the help of Miss Delacour here." This last he said with a smile toward Fleur, who returned in as easy a manner as Hermione had.

"Yes, well I think we should sit back and observe for the time being," Dumbledore interjected. He smiled and nodded at Harry and his friends before he and Flitwick chose a pair of chairs off to the side of where the club members were sitting.

During the brief conversation with the two professors, the final stragglers had arrived. The expressions on the faces of the students were a mixture of surprise that the Headmaster had joined them, and suspicion at the presence of the Slytherins.

Unsurprisingly—and perhaps surprisingly—the most marked disapproving reactions were from Ron—whose disdain for all things Slytherin was almost legendary—and Roger Davies, though both of them immediately noted the presence of two members of the staff and wisely kept their own counsel. Harry had expected Ron to object to the presence of the members of the house of the snake, though he thought that Ron was open-minded enough to grudgingly accept it, once their reasons had been made known.

Roger, though, was an enigma. His first reaction to seeing the Slytherins was surprise, which had soon turned to suspicion and, unless Harry misread him entirely, fury at their presence. Even after he sat down, he engaged in directing surreptitious glares, though he was discreet enough about it that Harry suspected no one else in the room noticed.

What concerned Harry even more were the looks of equal disgust Roger directed at him when he thought Harry was not looking. The Ravenclaw had been doing the same thing for the past several days, though Harry could not think of anything he had done recently which would account for Roger's behavior. Roger had never precisely been friendly in the past, but he had certainly never been this antagonistic. Perhaps the matter had something to do with Fleur, though if that was the case, Harry would have thought Roger's behavior would have begun back in September when Harry had arrived at the school already betrothed to Fleur, and not more than two months later. The fact that Fleur had confirmed that there had been absolutely nothing between them the previous year seemed to disprove that theory. Whatever the cause, apparently the Boy-Who-Lived had somehow managed to offend the Ravenclaw Head Boy. Whatever it was, Harry decided he would not worry about it. If Roger decided to make something of it, Harry would deal with it at that time.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Harry noted that the entire club had arrived, and after sharing a glance with his two companions, stood to begin the meeting.

"Let's get started, everyone," Harry said, as the room quieted. "Today we'll be practicing some more dueling techniques, as well as the defensive spell for this week. But before we begin, I'm sure that all of you have noticed the additions of several new faces to our group."

Motioning to the two professors, he continued, "First, I'd like to welcome Headmaster Dumbledore, who will be observing tonight, as well as our staff sponsor, Professor Flitwick."

The two faculty members nodded to the polite applause which erupted in response to the introduction, while Harry grinned at them. "Given the pleasure that Defense class was this week, I'm looking forward to the Headmaster lending his expertise. And though some of you may not know it, Professor Flitwick was a professional dueling champion. I'm sure we will all benefit from their assistance.

"In addition," Harry continued, as the club members took in this intelligence, "we also have some new members. Please join us all in welcoming Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Blaise Zabini, Greta White, and Nigel Johnson to our ranks."

A halfhearted round of applause met Harry's statement, prompting a sardonic smirk to appear on Daphne's face. It was an expression which was mirrored on most of the Slytherin party's faces, though Harry could not help but feel that such an obvious level of sarcasm would do nothing to help ensure their acceptance into the club.

"I thought this club was to be kept a secret, Potter," said Roger with a disdainful sniff. "It seems that little restriction has gone by the wayside rather quickly."

"If you want to blame anyone, blame me," Susan spoke up with a glare for the Head Boy. "I was the one who spoke to Daphne and invited her—our family has been friends for years."

Roger snorted. "Family friends or not, I was under the assumption that we were not to speak with anyone regarding the club, or there would be consequences. Did your precautions not work?"

"The protections on the parchment work fine," said Hermione. "We had always intended for the members to be able to speak to others of the club who they trusted."

"Well, Slytherins don't exactly have a sterling reputation for trustworthiness," said Justin Finch-Fletchley.

It was unsurprising that a Hufflepuff would be the one to bring up the issues of trust and loyalty. They were, however, all good questions, though perhaps not the most tactfully stated—a few days prior Harry would have had exactly the same things to say in response to the presence of any member of the house of the snake. Though perhaps the objections of the club could be overcome, their new members would have to prove themselves by their actions and words over a longer period of time.

"That really doesn't matter," Hermione was saying in response to Justin's charge. "Susan considered Daphne to be trustworthy, and thus the protections were not brought into play."

"Seems to be a pretty poor way of setting up your security," Roger said with a slight sneer.

Harry gazed at the Head Boy, wondering what he was about. His disapproval and deep scowl were such that Harry thought he may have been more vocal in his dissatisfaction. It was possible he was moderating his statements in view of the fact that the Headmaster was in the room, but Harry could not be certain.

"Regardless of what some members believe," Harry instructed with a pointed glance at Roger, "it has always been our intention to allow the club to spread to a certain extent by word of mouth. The only thing we asked was for the members to be careful in whom they were placing their trust."

"And I would not have said a thing if Umbridge had still been in the school," Susan broke in. "I still trust Daphne, but with the way Umbridge was courting Malfoy and his group, I wouldn't have taken the chance that they might have found out something."

"Shouldn't we allow the Slytherins to have their say?" asked Fleur.

All eyes turned to the group in silver and green sitting to the side of the room, but to their credit, none of them even batted an eyelash.

"I can only tell everyone what we told Potter when we met with him," was Daphne's simple reply. "That Slytherins by nature are ambitious and cunning is undeniable. But not all of us are part of Malfoy's little club. We are here to learn more about how to defend ourselves and our families. None of us have any ties to Death Eaters, Pureblood supremacists, or any other unsavory group."

"You met with them and interviewed them, Harry?" asked Ron.

Though Harry would have liked to know where his best friend was going with this question, Ron's face was schooled into a credible poker face. "We did, just a couple of nights ago."

"And you were satisfied with their reasons and their sincerity?"

"We were," Harry confirmed. "They also signed the register, which is no small gesture of trust and responsibility on their part."

Ron's gaze turned to the Slytherins and after a moment he seemed to come to a decision. He turned back to Harry and said, "If you think they're trustworthy, then that's good enough for me."

More than one jaw dropped in response to Ron's surprising statement, to which Ron merely arched an eyebrow at the company. "What?" he demanded with a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, I know you all expected me to fly off the handle here, but I trust Harry. If he says the Slytherins are trustworthy, I'll accept them until they prove otherwise. The rest of this talk is pointless—let's get down to business here."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley," the Headmaster, apparently forgotten by most of the room, said in response to Ron's statement. "Let this be a lesson to you all—never judge someone on so little information as to what house they belong. Always reserve your judgment and use your own observation to determine whether you can trust someone. You may get a nasty shock if you do otherwise."

With that, all opposition appeared to melt away; no one—not even the head boy, who still appeared to be unhappy at the Slytherins' presence—was about to argue with the most famous wizard of his day.

The club did get down to business shortly after, though this time, with Dumbledore and Flitwick assisting, the instruction was often passed from Harry and his friends to the older and more experienced teachers. Flitwick was a master of using one's strengths and limiting one's weaknesses, while Dumbledore was such an amazing fount of knowledge and experience, that the time passed by swiftly, and Harry felt like the evening had truly been a success.

Updated 06/17/2013