If He's Anything Like Me
By Ammie Hawk
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: So this chapter just kinda wrote itself, and I'm hoping that the next chapter does the same, since that was my driving motive to get this one done. Anyway, here we go.
Chapter 8: Practical Defense
The next morning, Harry woke early and got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn't think he could deal with Ron's attitude at the moment, so he made his way down to the Great Hall alone. There weren't many students up yet, but most of the teachers were present. As the only Gryffindor he knew present was Percy Weasley, he decided to bypass the table and headed instead for the Head Table. He came to a stop across from the table from his Head of House.
"Professor," he said quietly, drawing her attention as well as the others around her, "I was wondering if I could have my schedule?"
"The schedules are handed out at the end of the meal, Mr. Potter," McGonagall gave him a look over her spectacles.
"I—I know," he shrugged, "but I kinda wanted to eat outside, it's a nice day."
"Very well, Mr. Potter," she gave him a faint smile, and pulled out a piece of parchment.
"Thanks," he nodded, accepting it from her.
He turned around and made his way back down the stairs. He stopped briefly at the Gryffindor table and grabbed several pieces of toast and a handful of bacon, before heading out of the hall and toward the front doors. He took a seat in a secluded corner of the courtyard and began eating.
As he ate, he tried to pull himself together. He couldn't do this all the time, he knew that. He would have to face Ron eventually, but it hurt. Why couldn't he just be happy for him? Why was he making such a big deal out of the fact that he had a family now? God, even Draco was taking it better than Ron, and he had been Harry's enemy since day one.
He sighed and finished his breakfast and finally consulted his schedule. It looked like he had double Herbology first. He glanced at his watch and decided to head over to the greenhouses. He was joined almost ten minutes later by Ron and Hermione, as well as the rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years.
After a slight run in with Gilderoy Lockhart, the class progressed without incident. Then followed Transfiguration and lunch. Throughout the lessons Ron had continued his attitude from the previous evening, only now he had progressed to not talking to Harry at all, not that their lessons had allowed for much talking, but still. Hermione had tried valiantly to make things less awkward, but it hadn't really succeeded.
"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hoping for a safe topic.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.
"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"
Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.
They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry turned to Ron, finally having enough.
"You know," he said tersely, "the class isn't Lockhart's, it belongs to Hee—Professor Yuy. You'd do well to remember that because he's not happy about Lockhart being here."
"Oh, right," the redhead snarled, "your precious daddy. Gonna tell on me now?"
"I'm not going to tell on you, Ron," the bespectacled boy glared. "Now, I can't help that I found my family, and that they're here at Hogwarts. All I can do is make the best of this situation. And what you can do is stop being an asshole. You're supposed to be my best friend, which means you getting mad at me for things I can't control is stupid. I'm going to class."
Harry turned on his heel and headed back toward the castle. The crowd, which had gathered to watch, parted easily for him. He accidentally bumped into Lockhart, but managed to get away from him before he started in on another speech about himself. He made it through the entrance hall and had just started up the stairs when he was finally stopped.
"Potter."
Green eyes closed in resignation as he turned to the small alcove where the voice had originated from.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" he said, managing to keep his voice level.
"I heard what happened, kinda hard not to," the blond shrugged. "Look, I know Weasley's your friend, but he's being a right prat about all of this, so…"
"So what?" the Gryffindor crossed his arms over his chest. "Gonna tell me who I can be friends with? Cause that's still up to me."
"I know," the other held up his hands in surrender, "you made that pretty clear last year. What I was going to say, was that if you ever need to talk, about anything, you know where to find me."
"Thanks, Draco," Harry gave him a faint smile, "I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, I should get to class, I don't think Hee—Professor Yuy will take too kindly to students being late."
"No, I don't think he would," Draco smirked. "Well, see you around, Potter."
Harry shook his head as the blond went off to whatever class he had next, and continued upstairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He was really early but since the door was open he made his way inside. Heero was already there, which didn't really surprise him, seated at the desk in the front of the room. Prussian blue eyes rose and locked with his own.
"Hello, Harry," he greeted quietly. "I didn't expect anyone to be here this early, least of all you."
"Well, I didn't want to be late," he shrugged. "And I kinda wanted to be alone."
"You've wanted that a lot today," Heero stood and made his way over to his son. "Care to explain."
"Not really," the raven head bowed as he studied the tabletop in front of him.
"That is your right," the former Wing pilot shrugged. "But I get the feeling you want to talk about it."
"It's Ron," it was as if he had just been waiting for the invitation to be given. "Ever since he found out you guys were my dads, he's been acting like a… prat. He's supposed to be my best friend, but he keeps calling me a liar and getting mad at me."
"Hn," Heero nodded. "If he is truly your best friend, as you say, then he will come around eventually."
"You sound like you know," green eyes rose almost shyly.
"I do."
"What happened?" he asked curiously.
"My best friend didn't tell me I had a son, and disappeared for eleven years," the brunet answered seriously.
"Wait," Harry frowned slightly, "Duo? He's your best friend?"
Heero nodded, "But I have a feeling it will work out. And if Ron is truly your friend, then the same will happen for you."
"Thanks," that had given him hope.
"Hn," a smirk crossed the man's features.
Heero ruffled his hair and then made his way back to the front of the classroom. Almost immediately after he had taken his seat again, the rest of the class began to arrive. Hermione found Harry easily enough and took the seat next to him, while Ron made his way toward the middle of the classroom and sat down with Dean and Seamus. Harry was a bit hurt by this turn of events, but he'd wait it out, like Heero had suggested. Finally, all the students were seated and Gilderoy Lockhart was closing the classroom door. Before it could fully close, however, a hand snaked around the edge and forced it back open.
"Hope I'm not late," Trowa said as he forced his way past the shocked Assistant Professor.
"You're right on time," Heero smirked. "Lockhart, close the door and have a seat over there, out of the way."
"You do know that I am a highly qualified wizard," the blond protested. "I have an…"
"Claim to have," Prussian blue eyes leveled him with a look. "The only thing I actually believe you have ever earned in your life is Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but as that is a mindless frivolity, it is in essence pointless, so you will have a seat out of my way or I will turn you over to be dealt with by my husband, and he tends to blow up colonies."
"I think you've been spending too much time with Wufei," the unibanged man chuckled quietly, as Lockhart made his way to the corner behind Heero's desk.
"Possibly," the former Wing pilot shook his head, before turning his full attention to the class. "Welcome class, I am Professor Yuy, it's a pleasure. Now, before we begin, by a show of hands, how many of you have read Defensive Basics?"
To no one's surprise, Hermione's hand flew into the air, though she was the only one.
"Hn," he continued. "That is mildly disappointing, however, it was not required, so I will let it slide. That will be the only text required in this class, the other books you were forced to buy to line this idiot's pockets, you may do with as you please. To start our lesson today, I have invited Mr. Barton-Chang to assist me in a demonstration. This demonstration is to show you the advantages of not just relying on your wand in a battle situation, as is outlined in your text. As such, in this class, I will be teaching you both magical and mundane forms of defense and combat. Now, before we start, I would like to point out that Mr. Barton-Chang and I are both highly trained professionals, and you are not to attempt anything you see here today without proper training. If you do, you could end up severely hurt or dead. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Professor Yuy," they all chorused.
"Very well," he nodded and turned to his companion. "Trowa, after you."
"You're giving up the first move to me?" the one visible brow rose curiously. "Is that wise, Heero?"
"I am teaching Defense," the shaggy haired brunet shrugged, "it might be best if I showed what I'm supposed to be teaching."
"Very well."
With that they began to fight. It couldn't exactly be called a duel because there was no real structure to it. The two combatants were all over the place; magic, punches, kicks, and even knives, in Trowa's case, flying at strategic points. Though none of this chaos made its way into the assembled students, which was quite impressive in and of itself. The fight finally came to a close in an apparent draw, with Heero's wand pointed at Trowa's chest, while Trowa had a small knife to Heero's throat. They held each other's gaze for a moment before, as one, they each lowered their weapons.
"Now," Prussian blue eyes turned to the class, "who can tell me who would've won the fight, and why?"
Unsurprisingly, Hermione's hand was the first into the air.
"Granger?"
"The match was a draw," she said confidently. "You are too evenly matched. There is no logical way to predict the winner."
"No, the fight was decided there," Heero shook his head. "We were just not aiming to kill. Weasley?"
"Well, you would've won, wouldn't you?" the redhead scoffed slightly. "You had magic. The right spell and it would be over."
The professor held his gaze, as if weighing the answer. As the silence continued, Harry slowly put his hand into the air.
"Potter?" his eyes never shifted from the redhead.
"Tro—Mr. Barton-Chang won the fight," he took a steadying breath.
"Why?" the former Wing pilot asked, finally looking at his son.
"Because," he bit his lip nervously, "no matter how strong, or smart, or fast the wizard is, a spell needs to be performed, wand movements, incantations, things like that. The knife was already in place, no thought required."
"Correct," a ghost of a smile flashed across the teacher's face. "Magic, with as much as it can do, has its distinct disadvantages and weaknesses. As Potter pointed out, incantations and wand movements slow the process down. But these points can also be exploited. Even nonverbal spells require the proper wand movements, so if you learn those you have a distinct advantage over your opponent, whether to counter or protect accordingly.
"Now, I'm not saying Mr. Barton-Chang fought fair, he did not. He had a knife. But I will point out that having a secondary weapon, especially a different type than your primary, will always work in your favor. I didn't fight fair, either. I may not have had a second weapon, per se, but as I'm sure you noticed, I did not just use my wand. You will find that your hands and feet can be just as deadly as any weapon, if used properly. In a true fight, there are no rules. To believe that you will face your opponent and exchange spells back and forth, is naïve to the point of idiocy, and will more than likely get you killed.
"Now, for the rest of the lesson, I want you to write down what you expect to get out of this class, to be turned in when the bell rings. You may consult your text for ideas, but there will be no talking. Begin."
There was rustling as they all pulled out their books and parchment. The only sound that followed was the scratching of quills on parchment. When the bell rang, Heero dismissed the students, most of whom were now reading their text books, and had Lockhart gather the papers. Once they were gathered, he sent the nuisance known as his assistant away and turned to Trowa, who had stuck around for the remainder of the lesson.
"You know, you didn't have to stay," the shaggy haired brunet shook his head. "I only needed you for the demonstration."
"I am aware," the former Heavyarms pilot smirked. "Both Wufei and Quatre informed me. However, I stayed because I wanted some insight into our son. His answer to your question sounded like something Wufei would say."
"I thought he sounded more like Quatre," Heero chuckled. "His answer was strategic and analytical."
"I think," Trowa shook his head, "that we'll see more of each of ourselves in him the more we get to know him."
"You're probably right," the brunet shrugged. "Want to see what he wrote?"
He didn't wait for an answer, not that he needed to, and began shuffling the papers. He found the one he wanted and laid it flat on the desk. Both men leaned over and began to read.
What do I want to get out of this class? I don't know. I guess I want to learn to defend myself and keep from getting my butt kicked. I don't really want to fight at all, but if I have to, I want to be able to protect those closest to me and those who can't fight for themselves.
"He sounds like Duo," Heero ran a hand through his hair.
"He sounds like all of us," Trowa countered. "We all had our different reasons for piloting, but when it came down to it, we all fought to end the fighting so others wouldn't suffer anymore."
"I guess you're right," the other agreed. "Well, that was my last class for the day, I'm heading out."
"Yeah, I said I'd meet Wufei after his last class. See you at dinner."
Ammie: So there it is. I'm really hoping that this fic continues to play nice cause I really love this fic. Anyway, please let me know what you think.