CHAPTER 4
Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. His very first DADA lesson was due today. First-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. He nervously tried to smoothen his hair, but of course this only made it untidier than ever. He took a deep breath and opened the door to his classroom. No sooner had he stepped in when a girl in the back row gasped. Others stared at him with eyes the size of saucers and yet others had their mouths opened as if submitting to a dental examination.
"Good morning, class," Harry greeted them in his most professional-sounding voice. He picked up the roster from his desk.
"Now before I start with-"
"Sir, is it really true that you defeated You-Know-Who single-handedly?"
"Sir, is Peeves right about you marrying Moaning Myrtle?"
"Sir, I believe you and Professor Snape don't get along very well, is that true?"
Harry raised his hand and cleared his throat.
"I would not have been able to defeat Voldemort without the invaluable help of my friends. Second question: I regret to say that I have no nuptials whatsoever to look forward to with Miss Myrtle, and as for the last question: you may want to ask Professor Snape for answers."
His tone, although mild and humorous, had enough authority to quell any further questions.
"Now – the list."
He read out the names, and each student flushed with pride on hearing his or her name pronounced by Professor Harry James Potter.
By the end of the lesson, Harry was exhausted but pleased with himself. He had another lesson later on that day – Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. He had been anxious about this class due to the presence of the Slytherins. Small as they were, they eyed him warily. One Slytherin girl immediately asked him if he was a pureblood. Harry put her smartly into place, explaining that such personal questions were considered rude and that the distinction between pureblooded and muggleborn witches and wizards was old-fashioned, discriminating and in need of serious revision. Next, a breathless Hufflepuff boy asked him if he was indeed the owner of the legendary kettle of Nackledirk. Harry gravely denied any knowledge and existence of such an object and commenced with the lesson.
He was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner when a tremendously nervous Gryffindor boy from his first class stuttered out that he had asked Professor Snape about the dislike issue. Professor Snape had referred him to Professor Potter for an answer and threatened him with detention if he asked any other "imbecile" questions.
"Let's put it this way, Philip – that is your name, if I recall correctly?"
The boy dropped his books and nodded vigorously, eyes shining.
"Well, Philip – some questions are best left unanswered."
The boy looked rather disappointed.
"You must be hungry after your first day of school. Run along for dinner now," Harry smiled, levitating the books back into the boy's arms. Philip stammered out his thanks and scurried off to the Great Hall.
All in all, Harry's first day of teaching was a success, and by the end of the week, his combination of humour and firmness was much appreciated by the students, and he got on well with all the teachers except for Professor Trelawney, whom he avoided as much as possible. She had greeted him by informing him that he would not only have twelve children but also marry the same number of times. And, of course, there was Snape, who made a point of casting him frosty glances at every opportunity. The only thing remaining for him to do (besides correcting students' assignments and preparing for next week) was to visit the Enchantments bar. He mentioned his intentions to Dumbledore, who told him that he would need a password.
"Password?"
"Yes – you require a password to gain access to certain restricted areas of the bar."
"And what is the password?"
Dumbledore smiled benignly.
"You will be given the password once you have sung a song of your choice on the stage."
Harry swallowed.
"Sing a song?"
"Yes. It is rather challenging, isn't it?" Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Especially since one is expected to sing the song by heart if one wants to get the password."
"Do you happen to have the password?"
Dumbledore's eyes glinted roguishly.
"I do, my dear boy. But I won't tell you what I decided to sing."
Enchantments was a huge bar, to judge merely from the size of the door. Harry went over the words of the song he had chosen in his mind. Surely he could sing a song after all the tasks he had accomplished? A group of young witches hurried in front of him and opened the door. He quickly followed them inside. A security wizard in silvery robes was standing at the entrance, checking them with his wand.
"Sixteen, sixteen…fifteen. Out you go. Under-age witches and wizards are not allowed," he said in a bored tone. Grumbling, the witches left. It was Harry's turn.
"Harry Potter, can it be?" the wizard shrieked, his bored tone forgotten, poking Harry rather painfully in the ribs with his wand due to his enthusiasm.
"Uhm, well, yes," Harry said sheepishly, handing him the required entrance fee.
"Eighteen, sweet eighteen…so honoured that you are visiting here…You'll be wanting a password, won't you?"
"Yes, I'd like one."
"Oh, splendid, splendid! People are going to flock to their seats when they hear that Harry Potter is singing tonight!"
Harry was ushered inside eagerly and guided around by the wizard who had quite forgotten that he was supposed to be at the entrance, where a long queue had formed. An exasperated witch wearing formfitting pastel pink robes hurried towards him.
"I will show him around, you go back to the door, Nervosus," she addressed Harry's guide, who promptly rushed back to the entrance, flapping his hands up and down in a gesture of apology. The witch flashed Harry a smile and grabbed his arm.
"Now, my name is Madleina," she started breathlessly, "and this is the actual karaoke bar."
Harry was half dragged to a huge hall with tons of chandeliers and tons of multi-coloured tables and chairs.
Music bars floated around, playing the melodies they depicted softly before fading away and whizzing up to the ceiling. There was a huge platform with playback equipment, and a microphone (which was crooning to itself) with a stand.
"This hall leads to two main sections, the Gothic one and the Romantic one. However, you can only access the latter if you have the password. Then, there's a room dedicated to spiritual music – Wizarding music from the seventeenth century till today's modernised sounds – and a room for Muggle music devotees. Oh, and finally, there's the Naughty Lyrics chamber…You know…raunchy lyrics…also requires a password," Madleina informed him.
Harry was intrigued to see that the Gothic room contained framed quotations from Edgar Allan Poe's writings ("Do you know that he was a wizard in real life, Mr. Potter? Of course, the Muggles have no idea of that."), green fluorescent spiders weaving webs in the air and eerie Gregorian chants mixed with doleful scraping violin music wailing away in the background. The occupants in this room were drinking a neon-green liquid called the Gothic Punch, and Harry was sure that he had seen a poster advertising the upcoming performance of a band called the Gothic Gargoyles.
The Muggle music room was very pleasant, as was the spiritual room. The bathrooms (Madleina stood discreetly to one side in front of the Men's) had speaking toilet seats and taps.
"For hygienic reasons," the witch explained delicately as a tap yelled:
"Come back here and wash your hands, Dirty!"
His head spinning with the first impressions of the karaoke bar, Harry was courteously led back to the main hall which was completely packed by now. Madleina steered Harry onto the stage, pointed her wand to her throat with a muttered "Sonorus!" and, to his horror, announced loudly:
"Enchantments is delighted to welcome a new prospective member. Witches and Wizards, please applaud for none other than the one and only Harry Potter! He will be giving us a song in a minute!"
Screams and yells broke out. There were dull thuds as some people fainted and the tinkling of breaking glass as drinks were knocked over. Harry's throat was dry. He tried to look calmly at the audience. A man occupying one of the tables at the very front caught his attention.
It was Severus Snape, his long hair flowing smoothly down his back, dark eyes smouldering, a mocking smile on his lips.
Dumbledore was right. It was going to be rather challenging.
---