Author's note: Sorry it's been so long. I've been a bit overwhelmed with school stuff, not to mention more than a little preoccupied with other stories (which are also being posted here, under the fairy tale category, so if you want to take a look...) But I'm back now, and here is more of Emerald. Hope you like it!

The timetables were delivered, as usual, at breakfast the next day. Harry and Ron glanced at theirs, exchanging them to see how many classes they had together. Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Defense. Harry had Care of Magical Creatures as well, more a symbolic gesture of support for Hagrid than anything else, and Ron had, reluctantly, continued with History of Magic. Hermione, of course, was taking all of the same classes as before, plus the advanced magic course that she'd gotten into. Ron looked shocked at that, but her expression made it clear that there was to be no comment. He only shrugged and turned back to Harry.

"Mum threw a fit when I said I was only taking four classes," he said darkly. "She made me take another one, and History of Magic's the only other one that I passed."

"What about Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked, surprised.

Ron shrugged. "I know Hagrid won't care, but, well, to tell you the truth, no."

Harry sighed. "Well, I flunked Divinations, so we're equal."

"So did I," Ron reminded him.

"And I passed out in the middle of History. We're still equal."

"I wonder who the new Defense teacher is," Hermione said, looking at their timetables.

Harry shrugged. "Whoever they are, they weren't here last night. You think that Dumbledore finally couldn't get anyone to take it?"

"It's a class that we're all taking, though, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "He must have found a teacher. He didn't say anything about it, though. I wonder why."

"Who cares?" Ron demanded, pushing a piece of toast into his mouth. "Just so long as we don't get another Lockhart."

"What about Quirrel?" Harry asked. "He was even worse."

"We don't have it until this afternoon, though," Hermione said, dismayed. She checked her watch, and gasped. "I'm going to be late for Ancient Runes. See you boys in Transfiguration!"

She scurried off. Ron rolled his eyes. "She has fifteen minutes," he said.

Harry shrugged. "You know how she is."

Ron nodded. "You have Care now?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

Ron grinned. "I'm off," he said.

"Have fun," Harry told him. He checked his own watch. Ten minutes. He should go a little early, just to say hello to Hagrid. Ron waved him off, still concentrating on his piece of toast.

Harry walked down to Hagrid's hut, happy that this class was first thing in the morning. At least he wouldn't bake during the class. Hagrid was in front of his hut, digging something out of his vegetable patch. He grinned hugely when he saw Harry. "Mornin' Harry," he said cheerfully.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry answered. He stepped carefully over Fang, and said, "What do you have planned for today?"

"Yer gonna love it, Harry! Come an' see!" Hagrid promised. Harry felt his heart begin to sink. That was usually the danger sign. Oddly enough, though, Hagrid didn't lead him into the Forbidden Forest. Instead, he walked with Harry to the other side of his hut. To Harry's intense surprise and amazement, he was proudly shown what looked to be a litter of puppies.

"What are they?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too suspicious, but unable to believe that Hagrid would choose something truly harmless.

"Crups," Hagrid answered. "I found 'em abandoned in a river, poor things. Dumbledore said that I could keep 'em, and I thought that we'd make a little project out of 'em."

"What do they… erm… do?" Harry asked, unsure how to ask how they could kill people.

"Do?" Hagrid asked, surprised. "They're just like normal dogs, 'cept that they hate muggles. Still," he said, grinning, "shouldn't be a problem if we don't take 'em out o' Hogwarts, right?"

"Right," Harry said.

The rest of the class had assembled, and Harry noted with relief that Malfoy and his entourage were not taking it. Perhaps because of this, Hagrid seemed much more confident, and he introduced the class to the Crups properly and without interruption. Lavender Brown, who was also in the class, though Harry had no idea why, squealed at the sight of them, and asked, "Can we have them?"

The question seemed to please Hagrid, and he grinned widely. "Yep. Looks like yer in luck. There's jus' as many of 'em as of you, so you'll each get ter raise one."

There was a certain amount of squealing from the girls. Harry traded glances with Neville, who shrugged. "Dogs, I can deal with," Neville muttered.

Hagrid explained where he'd found the Crups, then invited them to pick the one they were going to raise. Harry hung back, waiting for the initial rush to finish. When the others had retreated, each clutching a puppy, there was only one left. It was peacefully asleep, but as Harry bent to pick it up, it opened one huge eye and blinked solemnly at him. Harry looked at it, entranced.

He listened carefully as Hagrid taught them how to feed the animals and care for them. When the hour was over, Harry was, for the first time, sad that Care of Magical Creatures was finished. Hagrid seemed to know how he felt, and Harry realized that this was how he felt about all of his pets. All of a sudden, Harry understood his friend a lot better. "Can I come back and see her before Wednesday?" Harry asked.

Hagrid grinned. "Sure thing, Harry. Come back any time you want. She'll be happy to see you." He turned to the rest of the class, who seemed as reluctant to leave their Crups as Harry. "Listen up you lot, I'm gonna give you homework. Here it is: find a name for yer Crup. They respond better to names, and they'll learn who you are if you call 'em somethin' particular." Everyone nodded, and they streamed back up to that castle.

Harry's good mood lasted until he stepped into the Transfiguration classroom. Malfoy was lounging against the wall, looking smug. He was talking to Blaise Zabini, and when he saw Harry, he laughed. "Well, if it isn't the Ministry's pet Posterboy."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, moving over to sit by Ron and Hermione.

As he walked past, he heard Malfoy say, in a voice that was loud enough to make sure that Harry heard, yet soft enough to pretend that Harry hadn't been meant to hear, "You know, I think that Potter feels sorry for that oaf Hagrid. He's probably hoping that he won't end up like him, what with his parents being dead."

Harry didn't even remember moving back to where Malfoy was. All he knew was that that was the last time Malfoy was going to get away with taunting him about his parents.

Harry advanced on me, his face distorted in a hate-filled snarl. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and I knew with a sinking feeling that I'd finally gone too far. I should have remembered: he's sensitive about that kind of insult. "Say that to my face, Malfoy," he snarled. The hatred on his face was painful to see, but I knew that I couldn't back down now. My own wand was up and pointed almost before I realized what was happening. The others in the class had pulled the desks out of the way, and they formed a ring around us. I was forcibly reminded of my only other foray into the world of Wizard's duels: the ill-fated dueling club in our second year. Neither of us had really won that duel, and I suspected that today's conflict would amount to the same. We took the position, though neither of us bowed, and we shouted at the same time.

"TARANTEGULLA!"

"IMPEDIMA!"

Our curses hit each other, and exploded in midair. Showers of blue and yellow sparks rained down on the onlookers, who squealed and put up shield charms. Harry hadn't wasted any time, and his stunning spell caught me off guard. I was blasted several feet back, and I was incapacitated for three seconds. They were enough, and I cursed as he stood over me. He looked as though he was going to demand my surrender, but I wasn't giving up that easily. I hissed, "Stupefy!" in my turn, and he was sent back far enough to allow me to scramble to my feet. We faced each other again, wands still pointed.

At that instant, McGonagall walked into the classroom. She took one look at the situation, and her face turned even angrier than Harry's had been. She strode between the two of us, still managing to glare at both of us simultaneously. "Potter! Malfoy!" she shouted. "This is enough! We have all had more than enough with your grudges and they will stop this year! Fifty points from each of you, and both of you will be serving detention in this room every single day –including weekends!– until you can learn to be civil. Do you understand?!"

Harry nodded. I just glared. She turned her stare completely in my direction, and I was forcibly reminded just why she was the deputy headmistress. "Yes, Professor," I snarled.

"Good. Now, put this classroom back in order and pay attention to the course, for once!"

I didn't look at Harry as we stalked back to our desks, and he didn't look at me. I was seated just close enough to him and his friends to hear what they said, and I take great pleasure in eavesdropping on their conversations.

"Detention every day with Malfoy?" Weasley asked. "That's harsh, mate! And what about Quidditch?"

"She'll probably set them at a time that doesn't interfere with it. And I'm captain. I can change the time if I need to. The others will understand."

"They'd better," Weasley growled.

"It's not a bad idea," Granger said.

"What," Harry demanded. "The detentions or the Quidditch?"

"The detentions, Harry," she said, in an overly patient tone.

Weasley hissed in anger. "Are you completely mad, Hermione?"

Granger looked at him in annoyance. "No, Ronald. I'm trying to think of what's best for all of us. You remember what the hat said, I suppose?"

Weasley shrugged. "The same rubbish it spouted last year, all about us having to be best mates with the Slytherins."

"That's the point, Ron," Granger said. "Harry and Malfoy have to learn to get along."

"Like you and Malfoy are such great buddies," Weasley said sarcastically. I had to admit that he had a point.

"Cut it out," Harry said tiredly. I winced inwardly at the tiredness and dullness in his voice. My father had been sent to Azkaban before he could tell me anything about the ministry. Even so, I knew the general gist of the story: Harry and his band of loyal followers had run away from school to the Ministry of Magic. They'd come back injured and Harry had had a look on his face that told of grief unlike any I'd experienced before. I'd ached to take him in my arms and comfort him, to chase that unbearable agony out of his emerald eyes. But I couldn't. I could only stand at the door and taunt him and watch his expression turn from anguish to hatred. I will forever be grateful for Professor Snape at that moment for intervening and saving me from a very nasty curse. I was sure that, in that moment, he would have done anything.

The rest of the conversation was cut short as McGonagall walked towards them. Granger was, as usual, the only one of them who'd even made an effort to practice, and her eyebrows were a very unpleasant shade of yellow. Weasley hadn't even bothered to pick up his wand, though Harry had made a few token attempts. As a result, neither one of his eyebrows were totally yellow, but they were liberally scattered with yellow-ish hairs. McGonagall sniffed, then gave Granger ten points. Weasley was given extra homework, and she didn't even look at Harry. And then, she came to me. I quickly picked up my mirror and pointed my wand at myself. I muttered the incantation, and, thankfully, my eyebrows changed color. My mother had insisted I use that charm in public, as she didn't think I should be seen as myself. As a result, I am quite able to change any part of my hair any color, (apart gold. I've never managed gold, and I have a good idea of why). My eyebrows were now a soft brown, one of the colors my mother had preferred. McGonagall sniffed again, and didn't give me any points. She didn't take any away, either, though, so I suppose it was a success. Next to me, Pansy hadn't managed to change any part of her eyebrows, and she was looking at my brown ones with jealousy. If she didn't ask, I wouldn't tell, though, and so she turned to Blaise with a small sniff of her own.

My thoughts wouldn't settle for the rest of the class. I knew that McGonagall would give us our first detention right after, since both Harry and I had a free period (yes, I memorized his schedule. There's only so many classes he could take, and I pay close attention) right after Transfiguration. As the other students trickled out, Harry and I packed up our things, not looking at each other. Harry was talking with Weasley and Granger. I got the distinct impression that they were telling him to give me hell. Pansy and Blaise walked out together, Pansy glancing back at me with a shrug as she left, and I rolled my eyes.

Finally, the two of us were alone with McGonagall. She beckoned the two of us to her desk, and surveyed us with something that looked suspiciously like resignation. "Need I explain again why you are here?" she asked.

Both of us shook our heads. She nodded. "I am not going to give you anything like a traditional detention," she informed us. "It's obvious that neither of you can be trusted with any kind of object around the other. Therefore, you will simply be together for an hour every day. I don't care what you do, but the room is sealed against any spells that you could possibly think of. The point of the exercise is not to do work for me; it is to learn to tolerate each other. Do I make myself quite clear?"

Both of us nodded, and she pulled out her wand. I thought for a moment that she was going to make us swear some sort of vow that we wouldn't harm each other, but she only reinforced the wards on the classrooms. I don't know why I was surprised at that. I mean, there's some pretty spectacularly uncontrolled magic bouncing around here sometimes. (Longbottom's spectacular destruction of McGonagall's desk comes to mind: that one has made Slytherin history). I suppose it's just that I've never had any opportunity to see such a hell of a lot of uncontrolled magic that the wards were necessary.

Once she'd completed the wards, McGonagall left us alone. I was surprised that she didn't disarm us, but I suppose she trusted in her wards. I knew better. My father's favorite way of confining me as a child was to ward the house. I learned to break his wards by the time I was twelve. He, of course, has no idea of that, and I intend for it to stay that way.

I pulled out my wand and cast an experimental spell. As she'd promised, nothing happened. I cursed vehemently under my breath and dug into my bag. Harry was doing his best to ignore me, but finally he couldn't resist. "I suppose you're not planning on telling me what you're doing," he said, but it was almost a question.

I considered my responses: Harry expected me to refuse, so he'd have another cause to be angry at me. A slight grin played over my face as I contemplated the other solution: I could tell him. Nastily, of course, as we must keep up appearances even with the ones we love (especially when they don't love us back), but tell him all the same. And so, adopting my favorite imitation of Professor Snape, I told him, "I'm breaking the ward."

He looked at me with scorn. "Do you really think that you can do that? McGonagall cast the spell herself."

I shrugged. I was sure that I would succeed, and I didn't feel the need to respond. Finally, my hand closed on the object that I'd been searching for: the receptacle that I'd purchased in Nocturne Alley. I placed the tip of my wand on the flat surface of the object and grinned. Not even McGonagall's wards could stand against the power stored in the receptacle: it wasn't an actual spell, so it didn't trigger them.

"I'm going to drain the power out of your wand," I informed Harry.

He gripped the object in question possessively. "No you're not," he told me firmly.

"Do you want to get out of the wards or not?" I demanded.

"This was your idea," he reminded me.

I sighed. He wasn't going to give in, but it didn't matter. I tapped the object with my wand again and felt the familiar draining of power out of my wand, and obviously Harry felt it too. He gripped it even harder, and glared at me murderously. I shrugged. He'd get his magic back eventually, but not until he asked for it. I wondered how long it'd be. I felt the draining of the wards as well, and grinned. I waited until I though McGonagall's extra spell had been broken, then removed my wand from the receptacle. There was a bit of power left in it, and I sighed. I was going to have to get the power back soon. I closed my eyes, and concentrated. When I opened them again, I could see the wards that she'd cast. The vision-altering spell was one of my prime achievements, and I wondered if I was the first to invent it. If I was, that would be both amazing and scary.

McGonagall's normal wards were the same as my father's. I searched for the center, then aimed a curse directly at it. My aim was good, and the curse hit the weak spot. The ward shattered, and I grinned in triumph. I looked at Harry, who was glaring at me. I shrugged nastily, then gathered the power that the receptacle had drained from my wand. I felt the nagging anxiety that being powerless had caused lift, and I leaned back in my seat. I thought about dropping the receptacle back into my bag, but decided to leave it out as temptation.

He glared at me for the next five minutes, then demanded, "Are you going to give me my magic back, or will I have to take it from you?"

I shrugged. "If you can get it, Potter, be my guest." I tossed him the black object, and he caught it deftly, like the born Seeker that he is. I could see him remembering just how I'd done it, and he put his wand on the receptacle. His eyes widened as more power drained out. All the newly replenished magic in my wand streamed out, as did what remained of McGonagall's wards. I wondered what it would do now that there was no power here to drain out. And then I felt it. A horrible, pulling feeling in my chest. My own eyes widened as I realized what was happening. "Turn it loose!" I shouted at him. "Do it before you kill all of us!"

He looked at me in confusion, and I grabbed the thing from him, wrenching his wand off it. Instantly, the pulling stopped, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. As my breathing calmed, I looked at him murderously. He'd almost killed every wizard in the vicinity! Hadn't he realized what he was doing?! I ignored the voice in my head that told me that it was my fault for not telling him what to do, and concentrated on being furious. When I could finally talk, I said, "You idiot! Don't you know what you just did?!"

He was angry as well, and I could see that he was as scared as I was trying not to be. "How the hell should I know what to do, Malfoy? You didn't even tell me what that stupid thing is!"

"It's obvious what it is!" I shouted back. I thanked the four founders for the thickness of the walls at Hogwarts. Even without the wards, I doubted that anyone could hear us. "It leeches power from anything around it when it's in contact with a magical object! Why didn't you let it go?"

He didn't answer me, and I glared some more. I hated being without magic, and I put my wand very carefully above the receptacle. I felt the power return to the wand as the receptacle strained to drain the strength from the piece of wood. When my wand was at full power again, I put it away. I held out my hand for Harry's wand. He held onto it tightly.

"I'm doing you a favor, Potter," I spat. "I should just let you stay like you are, virtually a squib until you get a new wand. It's no more than you deserve. But I'm doing you a favor and giving you back your power. Your choice."

Very reluctantly, he surrendered his wand. I held it over the receptacle as well, marveling at how much power it could hold. When his wand was finally fully charged, I tossed it back to him and put the receptacle carefully away. Then I concentrated on the wards. McGonagall would know that we'd tampered with them, but I hoped that I could disguise just how much. Wards are hard to fully replace, and she would be livid if she found out that we'd erased hers down to the very foundations.

I'm much better at breaking wards than I am at creating them, though, and I didn't have much success. After twenty minutes of carefully disguising all of Harry's stupidity, I admitted to myself that I couldn't actually replace the wards. I growled softly to myself, and then allowed myself a quick glance over at Harry. He was scribbling something on a piece of paper and not paying any attention to me. I shrugged, and reached down into my bag again. I drew out a thin book and opened it, carefully shielding the title and cover from his view.

When the detention was over, McGonagall arrived to set us free. I could see her frown when she stepped into classroom, and steeled myself for the explosion. She advanced on us. "What has happened in this room?" she demanded harshly.

Harry and I exchanged a look, and I realized that neither of us was willing to take the blame. How very typical. She was glaring at the two of us, and when she didn't receive an answer, she turned on Harry. "Mr. Potter, tell me what happened!"

"It was Malfoy," he said sullenly. "He did something to the wards and drained all the magic out."

I couldn't stay quiet in the face of this outrageous accusation. "I drained all the magic out?!" I exclaimed. "Who was it who wouldn't cut the spell loose? I, unlike you Potter, know how to control what I start!"

McGonagall cut us off with a very cold look. "This will not happen again, do you understand?" she said icily. Both of us stared at her. "Do you understand?" she asked again, and there was a thread of danger in her words. We nodded, though I had no sincerity in my nod at all. "Fifty point from both of you, and you will each write a three foot essay on the dangers of fooling around with magic that you do not understand, to be handed in at the beginning of this hour tomorrow." We both avoided her gaze, and gathered up our things. Just as I was about to leave, she stopped me. I could see Harry slow down, probably hoping to hear me get into more trouble. "Mr. Malfoy, was it you who cloaked the damage?"

I nodded, wary.

"Five points to Slytherin for a good illusion. I shall tell Professor Flitwick that your skills in this area have substantially increased. However, I do not expect this event to happen again, do you understand?"

I nodded again, relieved. I left as fast as I could, before she could think of something else to yell at me about.

Ron was waiting for Harry to come out of detention so that they could go to Defense together. Seeing who Harry had just had detention with, Ron wasn't surprised to see a dark expression on his friend's face. He wasn't prepared for the story of what had happened, though, and he could hardly contain his fury by the end. "And he blamed you?" Ron spluttered. "After it was his thing that did it in the first place?"

Harry nodded. "And then," he said, and Ron realized that it was about to get worse. "Then she gave Malfoy five points."

Ron stared at him. "What?!" he managed finally.

"She did," Harry said. "For 'a good illusion,' she said. He was trying to put the wards back up. The wards that he drained in the first place."

Ron shared his dirty look in sympathy. "What do you want me to do to get back at him?" he asked.

Harry's expression briefly turned calculating, but he shook his head with a sigh. "That'll just get us into more trouble. It's not worth it."

"Shame," Ron said with feeling. They turned into the Defense classroom, and then stopped. The tall thin figure of Professor Dumbledore was behind the desk, and he was the only adult in the room.

Ron looked around for Hermione, and waved her over. "What's he doing here?" he asked, nodding to Dumbledore.

Hermione looked at him in exasperation. "What do you think he's doing here?" she demanded. "He's the new teacher."

Harry blinked, and Ron could see that he was trying to pull himself out of his dark mood. "I didn't think that he was allowed to teach."

"It's not common," Hermione admitted. "But Hogwarts, a History says that it's happened at least twice before. Both times, there was absolutely no one else who was willing to take the job, and so the Headmaster stepped in."

"Congratulations, Miss Granger." All three of them started, and turned to see Dumbledore himself smiling behind them. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor. Do take a seat. Class is about to start."

The three of them slipped into seats in the front. "Fifteen points?" Hermione asked, amazed. "That's more than remembering what I read deserves."

"He's probably trying to make up for the number of points McGonagall took away from me earlier," Harry answered. Hermione looked confused, and Harry recounted the story again. When he was done, she looked as horrified as Ron had.

"That's not fair!" she said.

"Tell me about it," Harry grimaced.

They couldn't talk anymore, because at that moment, Dumbledore called the class to order.

"As all of you know, I'm sure, we have had a small problem in the past few years finding teachers to take this post. Because no one was… eager to become your teacher this year, I have stepped in to fill the post." He waited for the buzz of conversation to die down, then continued. "Now, as I'm sure all of you have been told many times, your education in this subject has been haphazard and unorganized. I see no reason to change that, and so I will simply be teaching you the skills that you need to know to stay alive." His face was serious, and Ron realized that Dumbledore never lost an opportunity to lecture people. "I know that you have been told that Lord Voldemort is dead, but I assure you, he is not. In this course, I will teach you all I can to ensure that you survive long enough to make a life for yourselves. Defense is not a laughing matter, and you should all be taking it extremely seriously. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded, and he smiled, lightening the atmosphere considerably. "Excellent. Now, because of the scattered nature of all of your various educations in Defense, I'm afraid that I don't have a clear picture of each of your abilities. Therefore, before we do any actual learning, you will take a sort of practical exam." He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable groans. "These marks will not be counted, I promise. This is for my benefit alone. Now, please get into small groups."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved together, and pulled out their wands. As Dumbledore asked for each spell and charm to be preformed, he walked around through the groups, correcting, suggesting, and making notes. He didn't say anything to Ron, Harry, and Hermione except for, "Excellent work." Ron supposed that that was a good thing.

When they left the classroom, everyone was chatting excitedly. "Finally!" Hermione said, pulling out her timetable to check her next class. "Another teacher who knows what he's doing."

Harry nodded. "I think we might actually learn something this year," he said.

Ron grinned. "Not sure if that's a good thing or not," he said, ignoring Hermione's dirty look. "But at least he won't make us copy out of textbooks."

That night, Dumbledore asked Harry to come to his office. Ron looked questioningly at Harry. "What do you think he wants?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know."

"You'll tell us when you come back?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded and stood. He made his way down the deserted hallways, stopping in front of the gargoyle. He scanned Dumbledore's note, then said, "Saltwater toffee." The gargoyle turned slowly, and Harry stepped through onto the moving staircase. A moment later, he stepped off and knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Enter."

Harry pushed the door open, and walked into the room. Dumbledore nodded benignly at him and gestured to a chair. Harry sat, and looked straight at Dumbledore, wondering what the Headmaster wanted.

"I was quite pleased with the progress of many of the students in your class. May I assume that this was due to your coaching of them last year?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe." He wondered again just what it was that Dumbledore wanted. That comment had said nothing at all. Was he going to condemn Harry for taking matters into his own hands? But he'd said that he was pleased with their progress!

"I'm not going to lecture you, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, apparently reading Harry's thoughts yet again. "I'm simply curious. Mr. Longbottom, for instance, seems to have made substantial improvements."

Harry sighed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I guess I helped them a bit. Neville's not that bad, though. All he needs is a bit of confidence in himself, and he can do amazing things."

Dumbledore was looking at him with brightly interested eyes, and Harry knew instantly that he wouldn't like what the Headmaster was about to say.

"I am sure that I do not have to tell you about the importance of Defense, do I?"

Harry shook his head.

"Tell me, did you have any plans to resume the group this term?"

"No!"

Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows. "Why not?"

Harry sighed, wondering how to make Dumbledore understand. "Well, we started it mostly to get even at Umbridge. Now that she's gone, there's really no need to keep doing it."

"Don't you think that it would be beneficial to the students to continue learning from you?"

"No."

"Please explain yourself."

Harry sighed again. "Professor, I managed to help them learn, but I really have no idea how to teach."

"The best teachers do not know how they teach, Harry."

"Well, I'm not one of them," he said defiantly. "I don't want to be."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes." He didn't want to be responsible for other people anymore. When he made mistakes, it was easiest if they just affected him. He'd learned in June all about how devastating it could be to let other people follow him, and he was determined not to make the same mistake next time.

"They're your friends, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "You have to learn to trust them."

"I do," Harry said, not even bothering to wonder at Dumbledore's mind reading tricks.

"Then why do you insist on shutting out everyone who wants to help you?"

Harry felt himself getting angry again. "I'm the one who has to fight Voldemort, aren't I? You aren't all going to be behind me, telling me what to do!"

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "Harry, believe me. I know how you are feeling."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Do you? You said that last June."

"I know."

"Then why haven't you stopped insisting?"

"Because I'm right. Harry, have you ever heard of Grindewald?"

"Of course." Who hadn't? He'd been the evil overlord before Voldemort, and he'd been defeated by Dumbledore. "Is this relevant?"

"Yes. Harry, I fought Grindewald because I had to. But I did not want to do it. I wanted to stay back and let other people do it for me." Harry started to protest the comparison, but Dumbledore shook his head. "Please hear me through. I was eventually forced to confront him, and I won. But it was one of the hardest things I have ever done. But with you, the situation is reversed. You are not inexperienced, as I was. You have fought Voldemort on several occasions, and you believe that you can defeat him."

"I have to," Harry said bluntly. "There's no one else."

Dumbledore sighed. "But perhaps there is."

"Who?"

"Mr. and Miss Weasley. Miss Granger. Perhaps even Mr. Malfoy, if you will allow him to help you."

Harry snorted. "Malfoy?!" he demanded scornfully. "He's probably already got a Dark Mark on his arm."

"I think you are wronging Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said gently.

"I don't."

"You are, of course, entitled to your own opinion. But allow me to give you this word of caution: don't take too much on yourself. You are still growing, both physically and mentally. Voldemort has been studying for over twenty years, and you have only been training for five. If you do not allow yourself to accept help, then you have far less of a chance against him."

"I will defeat him, Professor," Harry said icily. "May I leave now?"

"You are determined not to continue with the Defense group?"

"I am."

"Then I cannot stop you. Good day, Harry."

Harry gathered up his things and strode through the door. He rode the stairs back down in silence, wondering just how long it would be until he could scream. The hallways were still deserted, and Harry started to walk to the Gryffindor common room. Then, he changed his mind and headed towards the Room of Requirement. If he wanted a place to shout, then that was the one.

He passed through the concealed entrance and found himself in a room full of shelves of empty glass bottles. A blank wall was facing him, and he guessed immediately what the Room had in mind. He dropped his things on the ground, and strode into the middle of the room. He threw back his head and roared his frustration. Without quieting, he grabbed one of the bottles and threw them at the wall. It shattered, and he decided that he quite liked doing that. He grabbed another and hurled it at the same spot.

He didn't know how long he spent throwing bottles at the wall and screaming. His voice was dying when he finally calmed down enough to be able to contemplate leaving the room. He glanced at the shelves, bare but for one remaining bottle. He shrugged, picked it up, weighed it in his palm, and flicked his wrist. The bottle flew in an arc above his head and smashed into a million pieces onto the floor. His shoulder ached from throwing so many bottles, and his throat was in agony from screaming, but he felt better. He supposed that it was better than destroying half of Dumbledore's office.

Hermione was getting worried. Harry hadn't come back yet, and that was almost certainly a bad sign. She tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate enough to take in any of the words on the page. She put it back down, sighed, and got up. She started to pace around the common room, but almost tripped three times before she'd completed the first circuit. With a slight groan, she gave that up as well, and wondered what in the hell to do until he came back.

A glance across the room made it clear that Ron was feeling the same way, and she shrugged. Making up her mind suddenly, she walked carefully over to the boy's dormitory and began to climb the stairs. Soon, she heard that Ron had joined her, but she didn't acknowledge him. They walked in silence until they reached Ron's dormitory, and passed through the door into the deserted room. Ron made a beeline for Harry's bed, and shoved a practiced hand under his friend's pillow. A moment later, he came out with the blank piece of parchment that was the Marauder's Map. Hermione bent over it as Ron activated it. Together, they scanned the map eagerly for the dot that was their friend, but he was undetectable.

"You don't think he left the grounds, do you?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Ron shrugged. "I hope not. Maybe he's in the Room of Requirement. It doesn't show up on the map, you know."

"But why would he go there?"

Ron shrugged again. "Maybe he'll tell us when he gets back," he suggested practically.

"Maybe. But if he's angry enough to run off, then he might not tell us anything at all," Hermione pointed out.

Ron sighed. "True."

They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the movement of the student body. Suddenly, Hermione said, "There!"

Ron peered at the dot that she was indicating, and nodded. "Told you," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "All right. You win."

"Of course I do," Ron agreed.

She grimaced. "You are such a boy, Ron."

He frowned. "This is a bad thing?"

She didn't answer.

They tracked Harry's dot up to Gryffindor Tower and through the common room. Just before he stepped into the dormitory, Ron closed the map and shoved it back under Harry's pillow. The ease with which he accomplished the timing of this made Hermione suspect that this was not the first time that he'd used the map to check on Harry. Just as Ron was pulling his hand back into his lap, Harry himself walked into the room. He was walking normally, and, looking closely at him, Hermione wondered just what he'd been doing. Judging from the amount of time that he'd been gone, she'd been expecting him to come raging and storming through the room, completely ignoring both of them. Instead, he looked at the two of them on Ron's bed, and dropped onto his own. He didn't say anything, but he didn't draw the curtains as well. Hermione supposed that that could be seen as an invitation to question him.

Sure enough, Ron asked, "What was that all about?"

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore wanted me to start the DA up again." His voice was hoarse, and he talked so quietly that Hermione could hardly hear him.

"Harry, what have you been doing?" she asked, frowning.

"Screaming," he answered matter-of-factly.

"At him?"

He shook his head. "No. I wanted to, but I didn't."

"What did he say?"

"Told you. He wanted me to start the DA again."

"But… you won't do it?" Ron asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

Harry started to look angry. "Because."

Hermione sighed in irritation. "Harry, I would like a proper answer, if you please."

He glared at her. "Because I have no desire to teach anyone again," he said. "Is that better?"

Ron shot Hermione a warning glance. "It would be good for us, though," he pointed out.

"We have a more than competent Defense teacher this year. I don't need to fool around with other people anymore."

Hermione completely ignored Ron's warning glances. "Harry, you weren't fooling around! We were teaching them how to make sure they stay alive!"

"And now Dumbledore's doing that," Harry told her.

"But Dumbledore's not you!" Ron burst out. It was Hermione's turn to glare meaningfully at him.

"Exactly," Harry shot back. "Dumbledore knows what he's doing! Just let it go, all right? I'm not teaching Defense again, and that's all!"

Hermione sighed. Whatever he'd been doing in the Room obviously hadn't bled out all of his anger. She stood and nodded to them both. "If you're sure," she said.

"I am."

"Then I have studying to do."

"Already?!" Ron demanded, incredulous. "Hermione, we've only been in class for one day!"

"And? I still have catching up to do! I didn't get nearly as much studying done as I'd hoped this summer."

Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione didn't wait to hear what he answered. She walked out of the room and down the stairs, heading back to the common room so as to head into the girl's dormitory. Lavender and Parvati were already there, but they were curled up on Parvati's bed, discussing something under cover of a silencing charm. Hermione ignored them and dropped onto her own bed, pulling a book out of her trunk and beginning to read.