The Prince-Who-Lived
Chapter Thirty
Alan was walking with his friends to the dungeons when a sharp whistle cut through the entrance hall. Alan quickly looked, and caught Geoffrey's curt gesture to move over his way. It didn't promise to be good, but as it was Geoffrey asking for him, his friends parted and let him go. Once he was within sight, Alan frowned. Both his father and his uncle were there, and standing at Geoffrey's elbow, almost literally in fact, was the ministry toady Umbridge. Geoffrey spoke before she could, something Alan appreciated.
"Ms. Umbridge has asked to speak to us in private, so I suggested Severus' office. Your father has agreed, so will you please come with us? I believe whatever she has to say pertains to you."
Alan nodded without speaking, and then gave Umbridge a small bow, indicating that she should go first. She gave Alan a sickeningly sweet smile, and followed Severus into the dark halls. She completely missed the wry smile Geoffrey gave Alan. Alan strongly suspected she wouldn't have caught on anyways. Or hoped. She just might be keener than he suspected. Better to overestimate her for the moment.
Alan decided to quickly pull astride his father and Umbridge partway down the hallway, keeping silent, but, upon reaching the office, stepping quickly before both of them and pulling open the door, holding it for them as they stepped inside. Umbridge gave him another sickening smile, although she did not appreciate Severus entering before her and making his way to his desk. Geoffrey and Alan followed her in, Alan standing out of the way, his hands clasped behind his back, and a blank but mildly attentive expression on his face. Severus looked like a bitter storm cloud and Geoffrey kept looking at the ceiling as though praying for patience. That, or he was hiding his expression.
Umbridge gave her simpering cough before starting. "I would like to extend to you, Alan Prince, the ministry's apologies for the lack of security at the Triwizard Tournament that resulted in your horrific injuries. Our trust was wrongly placed, and those wards erected tragically failed to perform as was needed to ensure proper safety of all those involved in what should have been a show of international harmony. Your own trust, and that of your guardians, was shattered twice in these halls, first entering you in a tournament beyond your experience, and secondly allowing such damage to come to a minor entrusted to their care. The events at the end of last year should never have happened to one so young; such permanent scars..."
Umbridge stalled as Alan felt himself unable to stop a flinch; he didn't like being reminded of the pain. He almost cursed as she stopped, but thought better of it as she changed gears – for about five seconds, until he found what she was now trying for.
"While some will twist the reporting of the events, lying to suit their needs, the ministry is at your disposal, and will listen if you ever desire our support." Alan suppressed his sneer; like he'd believe they'd listen if what he said were not to their liking. How naive did they think he was? He'd seen the newspapers, thank you. "My door will always be open to you, Mr. Prince, so feel free to come at any time if there's something you need, or something you wish to tell me. If you feel in danger, further protections are not out of your reach, and the ministry is indebted to you for the sorry negligence you have been shown."
Alan found it in himself to nod slowly, still not choosing to speak. Let her think him meek after the torture. Perhaps it would grant him more leeway with her.
The gesture apparently pleased her, as she smiled saccharinely at him, to which he ducked his head again, and she reached as though to touch his shoulder. Alan exaggerated his reaction then, ducking away from it, and then not looking at her afterwards. Severus growled inarticulately, and Umbridge shot him a nasty look before addressing Alan again.
"I'm sorry child, I didn't mean to scare you. Please, if you ever need anything the ministry is at your disposal, and we are most apologetic for the damage that has been done. You'll see more of what I can do for you in the article tomorrow, dear." Alan nodded carefully again, and Umbridge looked between Geoffrey and Severus curtly before she smiled again and then nodded to all of them once more. "I'll leave you to your beds, then. Have a good evening." She gave Alan a bit of an expectant look, but he didn't speak. Finally, she left, letting the door swing shut behind him. As soon as it was, Geoffrey hit it with a colourfully explosive spell, and then snarled.
"Horrible bitch, coming in here with that load of horse-shit."
Alan straightened from looking quiet and snorted. "I can't believe they thought I'd go for that speech. It was ridiculous."
Geoffrey nodded slowly. Severus spoke up, "Alan, are you alright? I saw her overstep her bounds with some of that …"
"I'm fine. Half of it was beneficial in turning her speech; that last was purposeful in case you didn't notice." His sardonic tone made both of the men laugh; the gesture had been ridiculously obvious to them. "And I'm over the rest of it. She didn't catch much. Just …" His hand quietly raised to touch his faintly scarred cheek; the dark nature of the spell had left it as a permanent mark and while it was nigh invisible against his pale skin, Alan still knew it was there. He was so lost in thought he almost didn't notice when Geoffrey stood and gently pulled him into a hug. Alan squeaked only a moment before he just leaned into it, ignoring the twinge of regret that his father never hugged him like this. Geoffrey simply sighed quietly.
"Alan, it's never going to get much better than that. Just don't dwell on it; we're stuck with this bitch until the Ministry grows a backbone, and you know how flimsy politicians are." Alan laughed quietly, and Geoffrey ruffled his hair before letting him go again. "We'll field everything we can, but be careful. Ms. Umbridge is to be treated the same as a teacher, but preferably with more caution as she's just itching for a fight. Be careful, and please remind your friends to be careful. I don't want to see you in trouble." Geoffrey waited until Alan nodded, and then smiled warmly at him and looking over at the still silent Severus. Geoffrey gave him a wry smile, and then yawned – it was almost convincing. "I need to get back to my room as well. Still feeling a little off with the time difference, and I have some lists I need to finish up, and to go over the lovely plan I had to write up to meet 'Ministry guidelines'. I'll see you tomorrow or something squirt, depending on your schedule."
Alan nodded, and watched him walk out of the office before turning to look at his father. Severus was sitting silently at his desk, watching Alan sidelong as he regarded the many questionable jars he had hanging around. Most of them were just for show, although in some esoteric potions they would be useful. However, the nature of the display had certainly given Umbridge some pause, as it did most everyone. Alan remembered Geoffrey's rather disturbed expression when he'd first seen the office. It was an interesting memory, for sure. However, Alan didn't want to stare at the bottles; he wished Severus would be less reserved with him. It was difficult trying to get the comfort he wanted from his father. Alan finally just sighed, and walked around his father's desk to his side, where he then wrapped his arms around Severus's neck from behind his chair in a loose hug, tilting his forehead against his father's hair.
Severus went very still for a long moment, and then sighed. "Alan, give me a minute."
Obediently, Alan let go, and Severus quickly sorted through several of his papers before he finally tucked them all aside, and pushed his chair back, standing and stepping over to gently pull Alan into a hug. Alan quietly returned it, knowing it was awkward for Severus but not caring all that much at the moment.
"You're always so demanding." Severus stated dryly. Alan shrugged without saying anything, and waited for Severus to end the hug. He certainly didn't want to.
It was several more minutes before Severus gently ushered him out, back to the common room. Having gone between Severus' office, rooms, and classrooms many times in the last few years, Alan found his way easily despite the late hour, and breezed through the common room to his own bed in the Slytherin dorms, which he was heavily grateful for the split rooms. Draco and his bookends had their own, while he shared with Blaise and Theodore. He just hoped they didn't mind him putting up silencing charms; he still had nightmares, and didn't want to wake them, even if he did have the amused sinking feeling that Blaise would not take kindly to being kept out … Blaise was disgustingly over-protective at times. And he wasn't even allowed to mock him for it.
IIII
Harry didn't know whether to look forward to the first day of classes, or wish he could hide somewhere. On the way down to breakfast, however, Harry saw Neville pause, and then stop at the notice boards. He clucked his tongue, and pulled down the twins' ad. Seeing them just exiting the stairs, Neville turned and thrust it at them with a wry look.
"Put it somewhere I can't see it, please. That is not allowed by the rules, and I will tear it down every single time I see it." Neville raised his eyebrow at them, and left. Harry gave him a short look, and Neville laughed quietly. "They're smart. They just need to hide it from us lovely prefects, and they can play as much as they like. I take my responsibility seriously to the point of the letter of the law. No further." Neville winked at Harry, and then lowered his voice. "Just don't tell Hermione that."
Harry shook his head, and looked away. Neville was head over heels, in his normal way. However, even his happy outlook did not detract from Harry's disturbed premonition that he was going to have to deal with the disgusting pink undersecretary sometime that day. Unfortunately, the paper delivered with breakfast only confirmed it.
Hermione got hers first, and then spat pumpkin juice all across it. Ron, beside her, quickly looked over and spat a rude oath. Finally, Harry just sighed.
"What does it say?"
Hermione sighed, and scanned the article before tossing it to Harry and Neville. "She's going to be watching all the classes to make sure the teaching is up to par – or down to it, I suspect – and ensuring they are staying within the 'ministry approved' curriculum."
Neville sighed, and pursed his lips, looking at the ceiling. "Man, her and Geoffrey are going to be at loggerheads from the first moment on."
Harry let out a small laugh at the thought, but it was a nervous one. What sort of treatment would they suffer at her hands? Why? He was so busy thinking, he was mildly startled when the twins came up, one putting his arm around Neville, making him squeak, and one leaning his arm most unwelcomely on Harry's head. Harry growled, and quickly shoved him off, glaring up at them.
"Hello, what was that for?"
The twin holding Neville grunted and let go, and they both stood back, hands raised with large smiles on their faces. "Worrying about the new Inquisitor?"
Hermione frowned, and Harry sighed. "Aren't you? She's probably going to try and make our lives Hell."
"Well, yes," One allowed,
"That's why we,"
"The Weasley twins,"
"Plan on returning the favour."
"Besides," The first returned, leaning closer to Harry and wagging his finger, "I'm sure we'll have a most willing partner in crime with our new Defence teacher, don't you think?"
Harry couldn't help his smile. "I'm sure you will. Don't get caught, else Neville and Hermione will have to be most stern with you."
The twins rolled their eyes in synch, and smiled. "I think they might be busy with other things." They grinned wickedly as both Neville and Hermione blushed, Neville managing to hold onto his stern expression. The twins both winked, and then continued as though they had meant to all along.
"After all, fifth year is OWL year."
"And the teachers just stack on the homework."
"You'll be begging for us to complete our products by the end of the year."
Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm not even sure I want to know what you might come up with. What if it's dangerous?"
Fred and George smiled. "We test everything already. That's what Neville interrupted earlier."
Hermione gave them a firm glare. "Just what did Neville interrupt?"
"Hermione," Neville drew her attention away, and smiled. "Just them advertising their products. Told them where to shove it, is all."
"Good." Hermione nodded firmly. "Thank you, Neville."
"No problem!" Neville grinned roguishly. The twins looked at each other with their own evil grins and wandered off.
Harry rolled his eyes and consulted his schedule. "And we've got History of Magic soon enough. Coming, lovebirds?"
Neville and Hermione coloured again, but both gathered their things without complaint, taking the lead as Harry and Ron fell behind, both exchanging exasperated looks of commiseration. The problems when your friends fall in love.
IIII
Having History of Magic as their first class did not start the day off very well. As per usual, only Neville and Hermione stayed awake, although Neville had his nose in a book the whole time without Binns even noticing. Harry idly wondered if it was even the History text or not, but his thoughts drifted once more without guidance. Thinking of Neville's proclivity for using an auror level spell to get out of schoolwork reminded him of the animagi. Neville was doing very well on his; during the summer, he'd found time for the trance required to equate one's Animagus with oneself. Harry hadn't managed the time yet; he'd run interference for Neville during his, as the trance had taken eight solid hours for him. The trouble was that it wasn't a standard time; everyone's was different. During the summer, Alan had grudgingly admitted to completing his transformation in it's entirety before he'd even made it to Grimmauld, but it wasn't all that interesting to him, and he'd refused to show it off. Harry felt only mildly jealous; he'd manage his own soon enough. Alan's had taken him ten hours of trance, so Harry felt a sinking feeling his might be even longer. And the spell …
Harry was shaken out of his contemplation by a grinning Neville. Harry quickly stood and made his way behind him out the door, where Hermione was waiting with a huffy expression. She just sighed and led the way to the damp courtyard, Ron following along behind them as Harry drifted once more. He snapped back to reality, however, when someone hailed their group.
"Ron! Harry, both of you!"
It was Hannah Abbot, and behind her were Susan and an amused boy in Ravenclaw clothes. Harry and his stopped, waiting patiently for them to catch up, and the two girls smiled warmly as Hannah spoke up,
"Hey, Harry, you remember how we were talking about Alan and him possibly clearing up the issues? Kevin agrees that You-Know-Who is back, and said he'd try and talk to Theodore about it and Alan speaking up for himself."
Harry smiled, thinking that that was rather unlikely someone Alan didn't know would convince him, but to have it come from one known source would make everyone else think his eventual agreement was more reasonable: Harry would be working on Alan himself. Ron, fortunately, kept him from having to modulate his tone into sincerity.
"That's great, Hannah! Thank you, Kevin. I hope you don't get too much flack from the Slytherins."
"It's fine, Weasley." Kevin happily allowed. "I like Nott; he's a smart kid. Nothing like the rest of them, the leaders, Malfoy and Prince. They're really cold to anyone outside the house. I'm not sure how easy it'll be to get the message across, but it's a good point."
Ron nodded as well, and gave Hannah another large smile. Harry noticed Kevin's smile turn wry; he could see as clearly as everyone else that they liked each other. Susan sent a smile at Harry as well, and Harry felt a warm bubble rise in his chest as he smiled back and nodded slightly. He hoped she was the only one of them who coloured at that. Neville wouldn't let him live it down if he blushed right now …
"What class do you guys have next?" Neville asked calmly, sending a smirk at Harry that let him know his hopes were in vain. He turned back to focusing on the discussion of classes before the point could get any worse for him.
They continued to speak until the bell came for the next classes, and then split, Hannah, Susan and Kevin to their classes, and Harry and his to Potions in the dungeons. Ron made irritable disparaging sounds at having to descend into the darkness to continue learning what he called a pointless subject. Neville snorted.
"Ron, you liked all the potions we learned over the summer."
Ron frowned. "That was because –someone other than Snape was teaching us." Ron caught himself before mentioning any names, but still frowned. "You know that. I don't learn the way this bat teaches."
Harry rolled his eyes and found Alan already seated on the other side of the room with Blaise and his friends, talking quietly. Harry followed the others to their seats and sat, getting out all of his things and wondering what Severus would throw at them this time around.
When class began, Snape stormed in as usual, his stern order of, "Settle down," being unnecessary for the class had gone dead silent upon the opening of the door. Still, he shut it firmly and stalked to the front of the classroom. Harry strongly suspected he was in a foul mood, as Alan himself wasn't even looking at his father but was instead fiddling with his potions instruments. It was not a promising beginning.
"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape spoke quietly, and threateningly, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some in this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to at least scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L. or suffer my … displeasure."
He turned a glare on the Gryffindors, making Ron flinch, but Neville was clearly itching to do something cheeky and holding it in most likely for Alan's sake alone.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape continued after no reaction came from the Gryffindors. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." His gaze ended up on Harry's face, but Harry kept his expression neutral in a manner that would do Alan proud. It seemed to unnerve Snape who took a moment to continue. He seemed distracted, though …
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," He'd come to rest on Draco's bookends, and gave them a wicked smile, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts on maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.
"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometime irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." Harry felt a small smile work it's way past his neutrality. This was a potion Alan had badgered Regulus into going over with them. Harry suspected Alan knew Severus would bring it up, and that was probably why he'd done so. Thus, he knew how to do this one; Snape would be surprised. Heck, even Ron had done well on this over the summer.
With the ingredients and instructions on the board, Harry, Neville, Hermione and Ron went about their work with deep attention. As expected, it was a complicated, and fiddly potion with precise orders of timing and stirs. The ingredients were delicately balanced, and the heat had to be exact. With fifteen minutes left to go, people were moving quickly about in the rush to make sure their potions were warming properly. Harry, his fire lowered and potion looking a little off, took a moment to glance across the room at Alan. He was surprised that Alan's potion wasn't looking exact either, and, as he watched, Alan checked the flames with a frown, and moved to add the final ingredient. As he did so, however, he glanced at the board and his eyes went wide. He'd dropped in the ingredient and a virulent hiss screamed through the dungeon. With a yell, he knocked his cauldron over the front of his table, fortunately the front row, and then a dull explosion sounded. Alan and Blaise shot out of their seats, and Alan swore fervently. Most everyone's attention was distracted now, watching the scene. Alan had always been a perfect potions student; he didn't mess up. Snape looked across the classroom and barked,
"Attend to your potions before it fouls, fools."
Harry quickly turned back to his and added the final ingredients, listening attentively as Snape approached his son, speaking firmly but without malice.
"Prince, pray tell me what went wrong here."
Alan sighed, and growled something under his breath.
"Five points for language. You do not let your mind wander during class, Prince, much less during an O.W.L. potions class." It was more a reminder than a scold. "What happened?"
"I added too much hellebore, and then let it steep too long before finishing. It activated the poison and then … exploded. I knocked it off so it wouldn't do so in my face."
"Very well. As you no longer have any potion, you will receive no grade today and I expect you to find yourself a new cauldron before next class. Zabini, is your potion fine?"
When Zabini told him it was, he moved back to the front of the class and checked the time again before firmly announcing, "There should be a light silver vapour rising from your potion."
Harry looked at his own and grimaced. There was a little too much for it to be called 'vapour'. It actually more resembled dry ice in water, except darker. A quick perusal of the instructions made him groan when he reached the third line. He'd forgotten to add his hellebore. The potion was ruined. Snape was also striding up the aisle before them and regarding the potions in view. He said nothing over Hermione's, and then paused at seeing Harry's.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
Harry looked up at him with a frown; he sounded unusually malicious. "The Draught of Peace, sir."
"Tell me, Potter," Snape asked with quiet venom, "can you read?"
"Quite well, sir." Harry snapped, equally quiet. At the front of the room, Malfoy was snickering.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes and answered. "I already know I forgot the syrup of hellebore, sir. I've done this potion before, for practice."
"Then you should know that this," He indicated Harry's cauldron, "is thus worthless." Snape straightened, and abruptly vanished Harry's potion. Harry gaped, shocked. Snape ignored him and turned back to the class. "Those of you who have completed your potions, are to fill one flagon with a sample, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing." Snape announced, sweeping back to the front of the room. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and it's uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
Harry seethed as he cleaned up his station, furious that Snape would do that to him. Just because his son made a mess of his own work, and screwed up because he was distracted … Snape had never done anything that cruel to him before. Around him, Ron filled his sample with a furious glare, and Neville looked far too placid as he handed in his own, which had been of the same quality as Hermione's. They remained silent, however, and when the bell rang, Neville had to jog to catch up as Harry stormed into the Great Hall for lunch. It was almost a relief to look up and see the ceiling was a murky grey, with rain pounding at the windows.
Sitting beside him, Neville immediately sighed and spoke up, "I can't believe he did that."
"Neither can I." Harry fumed. "That was horribly unfair. One mistake. One! I knew exactly which one it was when he asked, I've made it fine before, but he had to jump on me just because he was in a bad mood. If he ever dares to do that to me again, I'm writing my mother about it and leave it to her to chew his ears off!" Harry ended with a slap on the table.
Neville laughed tightly, and saw Hermione and Ron finally making their way to the table. He lowered his voice, "Do you think Alan won't chew his ears off for it either?"
Harry gained a thoughtful look, and then managed a thin smile as Hermione and Ron sat down across from him. Both of them also offered condolences, but Harry reassured them that he was fine, and he'd approach his mother about it to make sure it never happened again. They accepted it, and turned back to their own argument with ease, leaving Harry to quietly wonder what might be thrown at him next. Finally, tiring of the stubborn insistence Ron had that he had not done anything wrong with his potion work, Harry stood and smiled wanly at them before announcing he was going to library. Neville brushed off the offer, and joined Hermione in picking apart Ron's potion making –whether he liked it or not – as Harry left the Great Hall and wandered slowly up to the library. Harry had a free period after lunch anyways. Neville and Hermione went to Ancient Runes, and Ron to Divination. He could only hope …
After he'd been buried in the new Defence text, 'Lighting the Dark Side' by Vespasian Battaglia, for at least a half-hour, someone sat quietly down at the table across from him. Harry didn't look, but jumped when whoever it was pulled his book down to the table. Alan frowned at him.
"Harry, I'm really sorry for what my dad did. He shouldn't have taken it out on you, okay?"
Harry quirked a small smile. "How'd you take him to task for that?"
"Reminded him you were Lily's son, and threatened to write her about him having a foul mood; I didn't like that he'd blown up at a half-decent student when he could have taken it out on Lavender or Draco's bookends. Called you a decent rival, and that you at least believed me. Lots of fancy words like that."
Harry gave a larger smile and then shrugged. "Well, we got the same grade for the day. Why'd you mess up?"
"Anger." Alan stated shortly. "That blown up bull-frog came to give me the 'Ministry's condolences' on my injuries and insinuated the lies they're still telling. How she had the gall to do that in front of Geoffrey, I'll never know."
Harry groaned. "She's inspecting classes today, isn't she?"
Alan frowned. "Yes, she is. Why?"
Harry laughed bitterly. "What are the chances of her not inspecting my Defence class?"
Alan closed his eyes and looked skyward. "Well, she'll either evict him by the end of the week, or be stuck with him. One of the two."
Harry openly crossed his fingers. "I pray he kills her in the worst way possible."
"Can't." Alan noted seriously. "Too prominent; Fudge would investigate losing his undersecretary more than just some spiteful reporter. Besides, Lucille wouldn't put out the effort if it's not a significant threat, so unless she does something significant she won't spare the effort, and Geoffrey acting without clearing whatever it is with Ginger or the family… well, he isn't fond of those lectures."
Harry laughed quietly. "I never thought a man might be."
"Yeah …" Alan sighed, checked his watch and then stood. "Well, enjoy the free period?"
Harry nodded slowly and smiled. "Yeah, I'll see you?"
Alan nodded quietly and left. Harry returned to the book. It was very good, after all. And it helped distract him from the likelihood that he'd be seeing a standoff between Geoffrey Alfaerus and Ms. Umbridge come next class. Although that might not be so bad ... There was a good chance of it being funny on some level.
IIII
"This is an abominable amount of homework!" Ron groused. "A foot and a half for Binns, a foot for Snape and Trelawney assigned us a month's dream diary! And neither of you can tell me you didn't get any homework from your Ancient Runes class either!"
"Course not." Neville said, hefting his book and glancing at the paper sticking out from the front. "Ten inches for Ancient Runes. I'm almost looking forward to Arithmancy."
Harry laughed quietly, and both Neville and Ron turned to him with minor glares, Neville's more amused than anything. Ron pouted.
"Stop that, I hope you get plenty of homework for Arithmancy." Ron grumbled. "That's always got quite a bit, doesn't it?"
Harry shrugged, and looked forward through the halls for the door to the Defence classroom. "Not really. But who wants to guess how much homework Geoffrey will be giving us?"
"Harry," Hermione asked, "why do you always tend to call people by their first names? You do it a lot, and you keep doing it with Professor Alfaerus." She emphasized the title. "You don't even know him that well. And you do it to Malfoy too."
Harry shut his mouth and tried to come up with an answer that made sense. He'd picked up the habit from Alan, honestly, with his upbringing and with all the stories he'd told he felt he knew Geoffrey very well. He knew Geoffrey wouldn't really mind, but … "I guess I just picked it up from reading too much?" Harry offered weakly. "And do you really think Draco deserves to be called the title of such an upstanding name?"
Hermione stared for a long moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. Harry praised his stance on genealogy and hurried into the classroom. Hopefully Hermione wouldn't call him on it anytime –
"But why wouldn't you call Professor Alfaerus by that name if he's representative of his own line?"
Harry beat his head into his desk. Neville snickered beside him, and finally spoke up. "I think Harry spent too much time listening in on Reggie and Prince over the summer. I remember doing so myself, and they talked about the Alfaerus a bit. Harry looked it up; Geoffrey Alfaerus is the second youngest of seven siblings, five of who are male, one of which is his identical twin. His father is also still alive, and most all of them work in Salem Sorcerer's School. Trying to call for 'mister' or 'professor' Alfaerus just doesn't work. His father runs the school, two brothers and one sister are teachers there, and him and one other brother are researchers who are always on call."
Hermione was now staring with Ron at Neville who'd apparently done more looking into it than Harry had expected. It was not, however, surprising to Harry, that Neville had taken the time, nor was the information itself news. He'd learned it all from Alan. Everyone else who'd overheard was staring.
Hermione shortly asked a few more questions, something about not finding the books for it herself, but Harry was looking around for signs of what might happen. The room was plain at the moment. No major accoutrements, no indications of what kind of teacher he'd be. The desk sat looking almost deserted at the front of the room, and the whole class had filed in, the bell rang, before the door was flung open almost a minute later. The chatter died as Geoffrey stormed in, followed by the ugly pink undersecretary. He went straight to his desk, and angrily shoved it back; the loud screech silenced the remaining murmurings. Umbridge flinched, and straightened indignantly.
"Professor Alfaerus, that is not the way to begin a class."
Geoffrey whirled on her. "Dolores," the name grated from his mouth, "I am the teacher today. You're investigating. If I must tell you one more time to shut up and let me teach, you may indeed be my assistant as I demonstrate the proper usage of spells to these fifth years. However, as that is mildly inadvisable why don't you sit over there," He pointed firmly to a chair by the wall, "where you happily sat last class and wait and see just how I might treat this class. It would be greatly appreciated, thank you."
He firmly turned away from her, and smiled tightly at the assembled students. "Well, sorry about the impromptu lecture. This is fifth year Gryffindors, yes?" There was a murmur of assent. "Well, nice to see you all. I'm sure you'll hear this from almost all your teachers, but to remind you once again to pay attention in class – that is, to attend to me, not the High Inquisitor. While she is required to be in here, I would appreciate holding your attention without," He flicked his wand and a loud bang made everyone jump in their seats, "having to force it. Paying attention is critical to Defence, no matter the circumstances. While Madam Umbridge is demonstrating the benefit of colour in drawing attention to oneself and creating a distraction, we're not covering improvisation until Christmas time nears, thank you." A small tittering swept the class and Geoffrey smiled. "Now, fifth year is the time of examinations. You all get to take your O.W.L.s, which will be a load of fun I'm sure. I've seen the list of things usually covered, and regarding what's happened the years before you have a bit of stuff left to do to make up for two substandard teachers in your first years here. However, that should be fairly easy. O.W.L.s are easy, by my standards, but, then again, I'm one of those crazy Western idiots with pretensions above my station and a penchant for bloodshed. You do not necessarily need those skills. But just because you don't need them now doesn't mean you won't ever need them."
Umbridge coughed from her chair, but Geoffrey seemingly ignored her.
"We are all wizards here. Various backgrounds or not, we are magical and thus, long-lived. You all may very well live over a hundred years, easily. The world changes in a hundred years. There have been three wars in the muggle world. America, the land of the free, has rather firmly convinced several dark lords that trying anything on our land would be inadvisable. Britain has had two, one of which attempted to become immortal." Umbridge made another protesting noise from her apparently uncomfortable seat in the corner. Geoffrey still ignored her. "Other countries have had their own. Problems arise, people move forward. You may very well have to defend yourselves eventually in reality. As your teacher, I will teach you to be prepared to do so, but I will also cover when doing so is acceptable." He grinned suddenly. "As a note, it is not generally acceptable to be using this in the corridors, and if caught, Mr. Filch is more than willing to try and convince you otherwise. Any questions?" Umbridge opened her mouth, but apparently Geoffrey anticipated it, and clarified, "From the students first, kindly. Dolores, you may harass me once more later."
Harry, annoyed at Dolores, quickly raised his hand. Geoffrey smiled, and then frowned, before sighing. "One moment, I neglected to take roll. Lemme find the paper first, I have no clue who half of you are." He turned and disappeared behind his desk, rolling drawers quickly and efficiently –yank, glance, shuffle, slam- before he stood once more with a paper in hand. He smiled over them, and then called roll quickly. Harry impatiently waited, but noticed with interest that he gave no indication that he really knew Harry, or the other children who'd been at Grimmauld, any better than the others. Finally, he set it down with a smile, and turned back to Harry. "You had a question, Harry?"
Harry blinked, and then smiled remembering the American penchant for first names. "Yes, sir. Umm," Harry paused. Geoffrey had spent the entire lecture circumventing the point of the current war. Asking outright had just occurred to him to be a bit of a stupid action, and Ms. Umbridge would jump on it. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, but he needed to find a question. Inquisitive fifteen-year-old, son of an auror and vaguely familiar with the man … "What kind of experience do you have, and what do you do? You talk like you're … I don't know, you remind me of our last teacher somewhat." Harry blushed shortly, but gave a sigh of relief as Geoffrey smiled warmly.
"I'm an auror in America, and a bit of a trouble-shooter. I like to think I'm not as hare-brained as Mad-Eye Moody, but I can see that I'm at least passingly similar. I do have a lot of experience; I've been helpful dealing with at least one person with delusions of grandeur, cleared out a few under-handed rings of crime, some wizarding mafia, and also some troublesome magical beasts that got it into their heads to terrorize the law-abiding folk. And then the usual common lark of tomfoolery, but that doesn't take much effort. Any other questions?"
Hermione raised her hand, and got a small smile and a nod.
"Sir, what will you be covering with us?"
"Classic O.W.L. prep from a nice book I found … somewhere, plus a few non-conventional tactics that are easy to learn and use to keep oneself from getting injured in general."
Seamus' hand shot into the air, and he blurted his question, "Sir, do you believe that You-Know-Who might be back?"
Geoffrey blinked, and looked down, shaking his head. "As an American, I really have no opinion on the war at this time. I don't live here, and don't know all that much about your Dark Lord and whether or not he may have found a way to even be able to come back. He'd have had to have planned very well for it to be possible, and since your government seems quite certain his followers are all dealt with, who would have given him aid? I'm talking eventualities, not distinct possibilities.
"Now then, as this is the class, I shall start you out by checking that everyone has the required books. Well?" He raised his eyebrow at the general consensus sound, and then smiled. "Please bring them out and open them to the introduction. It's a succinct summary of goals that are wise choices for those seeking to understand how to defend themselves. Once you've gotten that read, I can give you a demonstration of some of my skills, and what I will be teaching you."
Geoffrey smiled once more, and turned to sit at the desk he'd shoved nearly to the wall, pulling out the chair and flopping into it. Umbridge stood and walked over to engage him in a hushed conversation that wasn't quiet enough to escape the notice of Harry and his friends, seated in the front row. Harry, Neville and Hermione, having already read most or all of the book, listened intently. Neville urged Ron to read instead, but ignored him thereafter to listen in.
"Mr. Alfaerus, may I ask if disparaging fellow teachers is a regular practice followed by Americans?"
"Are you offended by my comment about your sweater?" Geoffrey idly asked.
"My style is my choice, Mr. Alfaerus, and is not a subject of discussion."
"Clothing falls into the improvisation category of Defence, Dolores, when it stands out as an excellent target even in bad light. It is simple truth that that colour of pink attracts attention in spades, and nothing you say will change that. I shall refrain from using you as a discussion point in further classes, but I can't exactly use myself as a subject when I'm stuck wearing the most basic teacher black. While the robes might attract attention in the muggle circles and America, it seems to be dress code for British wizards if you're not interested in having them be loud eyesores of colour, as Dumbledore tends to display."
"Thank you, Mr. Alfaerus." She finished with a little mocking giggle; she didn't believe him sincere at all. It was more intelligence than Harry had expected. "Now then, are you going to make it a habit to forget to call roll?"
"Certainly not, you distracted me when I would have done so immediately. It's not my fault you insisted upon discussing my classes with me in the time between them, and then tailing me to the staff room for coffee and back again. The interrogation made me forget, and I needed to take care of the class as I was already late, due to your interference."
Umbridge sniffled again, and then went back to her seat. Geoffrey scanned the class and then gave the four in the front seats a wry smile before continuing on. Harry smiled quietly and flipped through the book to find where he'd stopped once his free period was over, somewhere around the eighth chapter …
Before long, it was the last dregs of class, and Geoffrey stood and smiled. "Alright, looks like you're done. If you'll all look up here …" He chuckled quietly at the immediate attention he received. "All right then. Anybody willing to allow me to demonstrate on them? Or to possibly attempt to duel me? I'll go easy on you …" He wheedled. Harry snickered, and jumped slightly when Hermione elbowed him and nudged him towards the front. Harry gaped for a moment.
"No takers?" Geoffrey queried.
Hermione elbowed him again, but Harry firmly shook his head. As he did so, Umbridge coughed once more. Geoffrey, looking over the class again, finally turned and smiled gently at her. "You have a comment, Madam Umbridge?"
"Do you really think a mock duel is safe, Professor Alfaerus?" She simpered. "The students-"
"Know nothing I can't defend against, and I am perfectly capable of moderating my arsenal to one acceptable against a student of potentially deficit British fifth year knowledge. Feel free to jump me if harm comes to any student, but if they can handle it, I see no reason to not expose them to it. I am not making them accept, and you are perfectly willing to attend to them if they find any reason to complain about me. I certainly cannot stop them from contacting you, and have no desire to do so. But if they wish to subject themselves to it, it's their choice. You cannot protect them from their own decisions." He turned back to the class, and then gave Neville's raised hand a wide smile. "Neville?"
It was a question of name, and of intent. Neville stood, and spoke quietly. "I'll see about duelling you."
Geoffrey smiled warmly. "Good. Thank you, and you can call it off at any time."
Neville nodded, and then offered, "And I don't believe I have a deficit education."
Geoffrey's smile became predatory. "Can you prove it? I may give extra credit if you impress me."
Neville gave a small smile back, and walked to the opposite side of the dais than Geoffrey. Geoffrey almost negligently cast a spell to enclose the duelling area from letting out stray spells and letting in any interference. Harry felt that was a purposeful gesture to infuriate Ms. Umbridge who had been swelling in toady fury.
"A duel is no longer an acceptable way to solve disputes, but it's still a good exhibition of skill." Geoffrey began. "It's a good way to demonstrate spells, show off skill, and, if you're so inclined, enjoy some banter with a friend. Now then, kindly bow," He did so, and Neville copied him easily, falling back into a prepared stance. Geoffrey prepared his stance, but continued talking. "Some duels give a limit on the spells to be used. Clearly, we won't be using anything dark here but I see no reason to limit anything outright; I will be tempering my own as I have several years of experience and am trained equivalent to your aurors, but I would like to see just what Neville here is capable of." He gave a confident smile. "I'm sure I can counter anything he could throw. And you are all free to act like a group of spectators as well."
Harry smiled, and then shouted, "Go Neville!" Most of the class dissolved into laughter, including after Neville shook his head at the gesture. Geoffrey smiled, settled into waiting, and quietly spoke,
"Begin."
Neville waited several moments to see if Geoffrey would throw anything, and then determined to cast the first spell. Neville had perfected soundless spell casting the year before; Alan had been frustrated as Hell when Neville would do something and he couldn't hear it. Harry wasn't as annoyed. He had never bothered competing with Neville; their strengths were not debated. Harry was stronger magically, Neville flattened him in knowledge; it was a given. Thus, Neville's first spell was silent, and grey-orange. Geoffrey blocked it with protego, but gave Neville a small nod.
"Silent spell casting is introduced sixth year." He commented, waiting still for Neville to act. "Useful in hiding what is being cast, and confusing one's enemies who would thus try to determine by spell colour alone, a chancy option." He shut up as he tried to block another grey spell, and had to dodge as it went through his basic protego shield. He did so quite well, but gave Neville another small nod, and cast his first spell back, silently, but Harry was fairly sure it was the Reductor curse.
Neville dodged without a shield, and then incanted, "Dulce Moxibor!" Harry immediately wondered where on earth he'd learned it, and then stared when he saw starbursts explode everywhere in the shield, rebounding off the walls. Harry watched it all bounce off a shield Neville had gotten up silently, and also bouncing off a shield Geoffrey had quickly raised. There was a small amount of smoke coming off his left sleeve, which he'd raised as the first began before he'd gotten the shield up. The many lights left the further movements hard to determine, but Neville suddenly yelped, and the starbursts ended before Geoffrey quickly moved, and then Neville's wand flew to his hands. There was a moment of silence, and then the class began to clap. Harry clapped enthusiastically even as he let Neville know with his expression that he was most certainly going to be questioning him as soon as they got down from there. Geoffrey waved Neville to bow with him to each other, and then to the room before he finally spoke up.
"That was excellent, and a wonderful demonstration of several points. I think I'll give you all a minor homework to write your impressions of the duel, Neville included, and what spells you think might have been used, and what benefits each effect had. There are no wrong answers to this; I just want an effort from all of you, with no set length. It's due next class. Neville, you're unharmed?" Neville nodded shortly, and Geoffrey quickly nodded. "You have the rest of class to work on the beginning of it, and then you may leave with the bell. Feel free to adjust seating at will. Move any desks back to order before leaving, or face my wrath."
He went to sit down, and Harry turned his attention to interrogating Neville.
A/N: Ahh, late. Sorry. And the school year begins. Thank you to everyone who reviews!
Fire & Napalm