Chapter Ten - Defence With Dolores

Monday morning came too early, as it always did. Despite going to bed at an entirely reasonable hour, the Slytherins always groused when the sun came up over the lake and through their picture window.

Harry woke up, reached for his glasses and his wand, which now had a place on his headboard. He cast the key to his Locking Hexes and pulled back the curtains. He slid his feet into his slippers, grabbed his bath things, and headed to the shower.

Once he was scrubbed clean and had brushed his teeth, he returned to the dorm to dress. He quickly donned a uniform shirt, vest, and trousers. He tied his tie with praticed ease.

I've got Potions and Herbology today. Best not to wear the good robes.

Harry picked up his comb and attempted to do something with his hair. Though it had calmed down some since he had started his Animagus training, Harry still had problems with his hair. The messy black mop often seemed like it had a mind of its own. When it was moody, it tenaciously resisted all efforts to tame it. Today though, it was cooperating.

"Comb it all forward," his enchanted mirror advised him, "then raise up your bangs with a little styling potion."

Following such advice would expose his scar for everyone to see. Harry hated it when people stared at his scar. It reminded them all of Voldemort, but it reminded Harry of the night he'd lost his parents. He never truly forgot, but sometimes he was able to not think about it.

"Thanks, Shoshi, but no thanks."

"I'm only telling you what will look best. Trust me to know. You'll only be sorry later."

Harry's Reflective Friend definitely had personality. He'd heard other mirrors talk, but Shoshi really was on a whole other level. She almost seemed like a real person at times. If she hadn't been so happy all the time, he might have suspected a trapped consciousness.

Once Harry and Draco were finished dressing, they went out to the common room. Before much longer, Pansy and Daphne emerged from the girls' dormitory. Tracy and Millie were hot on their heels.

"Let's go," Pansy said.

"Let's wait for Theo," Harry suggested.

"Good idea," Draco said.

It took quite some time. Blaise Zabini emerged first and came over to them. "Good morning, everybody."

"Hi, Zabini."

"Thanks for waiting for me."

"We weren't," Draco said shortly. "We're waiting on Theo."

"Notty was still getting dressed when I left."

"Thanks. We'll see you up at breakfast."

Zabini looked a bit shocked at being so abruptly dismissed, but he didn't further inflame the situation. He went up by himself.

"Tosser," Draco said as the wall closed.

They were starting to get restless very hungry when finally Theo walked out from the dorm at a snail's pace.

"Good morning, Theo," Draco said.

"Hey, Theo," said Harry.

Theo did not reply. He stood there and looked at them blankly.

"Ready for breakfast?"

Theo shrugged emptily.

"Well, let's go then."

Harry led the gang upstairs to the Great Hall, exchanging worried glances with Draco. If Theo's no-care attitude was going to extend to classes, would he be able to keep up with their assignments? O.W.L. year was brutal from all accounts. Could Theo hold it together?

"I still can't believe this schedule," Daphne complained at the table. "Three double lessons in one day? Three? After Defence we have D-Potions, lunch, D-Transfiguration, and D-Herbology. What are they trying to do to us?"

"Make us learn?" Harry quipped.

"Make us have nervous breakdowns, more like."

"We'll get through this. We should start making studying schedules."

"Sure, Tracy," Pansy said with exaggerated patience. "We'll get right on that."

"I'm serious. It is absolutely possible to do adequate studying and still get eight hours of sleep a night."

"If you say so," Pansy replied skeptically. "Let's go find out what Professor Umbridge is like."

Dolores Umbridge was a teacher unlike any they'd yet had for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was not hard and grizzled like Professor Moody had been. She spoke confidently, unlike Professor Quirrell's stutturing façade. Nobody compared to Professor Lockhart. The only one who even came close to her was Professor Lupin, but there was something slightly off about her.

The woman loved the colour pink, and Harry thought her choice of clothes was obnoxious. Though she wore the standard black robe of a teacher, she left it open to let her pink clothes blind anyone within twenty feet. She had a pleasant smile seemingly permanently affixed to her face. She called the roll in a very business-like manner, not even pausing when she came to Harry's name, and tucked the scroll away in her handbag.

"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts, fifth years," she said. "I am pleased to see you all here. There are two texts assigned for this class, which you should have purchased. This will be largely a practical course, but there is a strong academic portion as well."

Practical Defence? Harry exchanged glances with Draco. Fantastic. Ever since Professor Lupin had begun setting the curriculum straight, things had done nothing but improve.

"The most effective duellers know a wide variety of spells and the counters to them. Use of the proper counter is more elegant than a Protego shield, but most importantly, it uses far less energy. I will drill you on countercurses. Consider yourself warned."

Professor Moody had taught basic shielding, some general counterspells, and principles of magical combat, as well as throughly exposing them to the Unforgiveable Curses (one of them literally). Professor Umbridge sounded like she was going to continue along those lines. Harry started to grin.

This year might be rather fun.

Professor Umbridge paused for a moment, smiling hugely. "There will also be a bit of a treat for you all this year. The practical portion of the class will be augmented by guest instruction from members of the Auror Corps."

Harry felt a surge of excitement. The Aurors were supposed to be some of the best of the best. To get any of that training, even if it might be at a slower pace, was a fantastic opportunity.

"Finally, I will be supervising the creation of a new extra-curricular organization, designed to help students hone their skills and techniques. You will be able to practice duelling and develop your full potential."

A new Duelling Club?

Things just got better and better. Harry decided instantly that he would sign up. He glanced at Draco again and saw similar anticipation on his face.

Umbridge gave a little "hem, hem" and looked around the room at each of them. Her grave expression grounded Harry's euphoria. When she had everyone's attention, she continued.

"Dark times have come again, and this subject will be your most important. The Ministry will need every wand to win the struggle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It is my job to make sure you are trained up properly to stand toe to toe with the Death Eaters when they come for you."

It seemed as though Professor Umbridge understood her job quite well, and she made no bones about it. She didn't try to disguise what was out there. In that way, she was again similar to Professor Moody. Neither one tried to sugarcoat it for the students. Harry felt his appreciation for Professor Umbridge go up a notch.

"Now then, please open the Odnol text to page seven. We will begin at the beginning."

Professor Umbridge lectured them about countercurses for the rest of the lesson. When the bell signaled the end of the session, Harry packed up his things and headed for the door with the others.

"Mister Potter, a moment, please?" Umbridge called out.

"I'll wait for you," Draco said.

"Thanks."

Harry headed up to the teacher's desk, wondering what the woman could possibly want.

"Yes, Professor?"

Umbridge had a very sober expression. Her lips were pursed, and she folded her hands together.

"Mister Potter, I must speak candidly with you. Are you planning to join my little duelling club?"

"Yes, Professor."

Umbridge was very pleased, judging from the small smile that appeared on her face.

"Excellent. I had hoped I wouldn't have to persuade you. I must ask you to pass the word among your fellow prefects that they must join."

"Must?"

"Yes, of course. Prefects patrol the corridors after curfew. What if you should encounter a Death Eater breaking into the castle?"

"I suppose we'd have to call for help."

"Indeed you would, Mister Potter, and it simply would not do for you to be killed while waiting for help to come. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose that would be a bad thing. This club sounds like fun."

Professor Umbridge's eyes instantly turned inexorable. Wrath and fury were promised to him if he did not lose his levity.

"It is not 'fun', Mister Potter. It is deadly serious. The Dark Lord's followers are merciless. They will do Unforgiveable things, especially to you."

"Not if I do them first," he quipped.

Harry never had been able to hold his tongue, even while facing Voldemort. Umbridge could hardly intimidate him when her punishments consisted of points, lines, or detention.

Umbridge's attitude turned even colder, if such a thing were possible.

"It is no joking matter, Mister Potter."

"I know, Professor. Really, I do. I take Voldemort very seriously."

She winced as he said the name, though she tried to hide it. "Yes, well," she said, sounding a bit flustered. "I will be posting details of the club within the week. Now get to class."

Harry grinned as he walked from the classroom with a spring in his step. It wasn't often that he got a chance to be cheeky with a professor. Most of them would take points. He could really only get away with it if it were Snape or Vector, and they required a refined sort of cheek in order to be sufficiently amused. If all it took to fluster Umbridge was to say the forbidden name, then Harry would be sure to say it loudly and often during discussions.

Draco was waiting for him, as promised. Tracy was with him.

"What'd she want?" Draco asked curiously as they headed down to Potions lecture.

"She wanted to see if I planned on joining the Duelling Club."

"Small wonder why."

Harry grimaced. It would be a good marketing tactic to have it be known that the Boy-Who-Lived had signed up.

"I know. I'm being manipulated into lending my fame for this thing, but I guess there's nothing for it." Harry shook his head, torn between desperation and frustration. "I do want to join. It sounds like it'll be a great experience. Aurors teaching us duelling stuff? Sign me up, please."

"Yeah, me too," Draco said. "Always take advantage of offers like that."

"Agreed," Tracy said. "The more disciplines you study and master, the more powerful you become."

Harry wasn't interested in power, per se, but knowing how to duel would definitely help him fight Voldemort. The evil wizard had wanted to go through the motions of a duel that awful night in the courtyard of the old prison. Harry had played at duels with his friends, everyone as clumsy as he was. Voldemort was much more dangerous. Next time, Harry intended to be prepared.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked.

"Pansy and Daphne went to go gossip in the girls' room with Samantha and Veronica," Tracy replied. Her tone made it quite clear how she felt about their whispering.

"I hope they don't take too long. It's Potions next."

There was a queue lined up outside Snape's classroom door. Harry saw Ron Weasley leaning up against the wall. He'd grown like a weed over the summer. He probably stood about six inches taller than Harry now, and he was getting a bit stouter around the middle. He had his arms folded across his chest, and his disdain for the Slytherins was almost palpable. Harry ignored him. It was far too soon to start picking a fight with the prat. Most likely, if he only waited, Weasley would begin on his own.

The Weasel hated Slytherins with a passion only Gryffindor righteousness could ignite. The fact that he was wrong didn't matter in the slightest to him. All Slytherins were evil, and that's all there was to say as far as Weasley was concerned. Junior Death Eaters, every one of them.

Nevermind that my parents were killed by Voldemort. No, that couldn't possibly matter at all.

Pansy and Daphne came running up, giggling depite their shortness of breath. Tracy tried to keep her expression neutral, but Harry knew her well enough to recognize how silly she thought the pair was.

The wooden door creaked ominously as it opened to let them in. Several of the Gryffindors jumped as the Slytherins rolled their eyes. They all filed inside and sat down. The benches in this laboratory were configured for individual workstations.

Harry walked down to the front of the room and put his bag on the first bench. Draco took the place nearest him, raising one eyebrow curiously in Harry's direction.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind them.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "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 of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my displeasure."

His gaze lingered on Neville Longbottom, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, O-level students, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested this time on Ron Weasley, and his lip curled. "Weasley, where may one find a bezoar?"

Snape never forgot anything, and he'd needled Weasley about bezoars on the first day of class in their first two years. They'd never found out from the red-haired Gryffindor.

"From the stomach of a goat, sir," Weasley replied.

"Correct. It certainly took you long enough. What season is best for findng Ashwinder eggs?"

Weasley gave a strangled gasp. "I don't know, sir," he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, some of us will undoubtedly be bidding us farewell," said Snape softly, "but there is another long year until that happy day. Whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at the 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 sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method," Snape said with a flick of his wand, "are on the blackboard." The writing on the board revealed itself. "You will find everything you need in the store cupboard," he continued and flicked his wand again. The door of the said cupboard sprang open. "You have an hour and a half. Start."

There was little time for idle chatter, not that Snape ever tolerated much of that in his class. He had set them a very difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

Harry was not used to brewing potions on his own. He had always worked with either Tracy or Draco. They were both very good and had taught him a lot. Harry enjoyed brewing, but the prospect of doing it himself made him slightly nervous. He took a deep breath and began to measure out powdered moonstone with a steady hand. He knew could do this if he just put his mind to it. Harry had read all about it last night. He made sure to copy down the instructions on a parchment that he pinned to the wooden cabinet.

The next hour passed with a blur of activity. There were a lot of ingredients and they all required precise preparation. There was not enough time to get everything ready before starting to brew, so he had to prepare the latter things on the go. The trick was knowing which things could be easily done and which would require more care.

Sweat dripped down his face from the heat, the stress, and the fast pace he was working at. He wished he had time to wipe his brow, but he needed to add the next ingredient. He brushed off the balance pan and began to weigh out dried dandelion stems. He pointed his wand at his mortar and pestle.

"Evanesco!"

He carefully transferred the dried stems to the now pristinely clean vessel and began to grind them to a fine powder. It wouldn't do to contaminate the component with things that might shift the potion's reaction out of whack.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

The surface of Harry's potion was a shimmering mist of silver vapour. He smiled, very satisfied with his efforts. Draco had done it right as well, as had Tracy and Theo. Pansy's mist was not silver but dull brown. That wasn't good. He spared a glance around to see how everyone else was faring.

Finnigan was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. Weasley's was spitting green sparks, and it was here that Professor Snape stopped. He looked down at the contents of Weasley's cauldron with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Weasley, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Weasley.

"The Draught of Peace," said Weasley tensely.

"Tell me, Weasley," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Weasley, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Weasley."

Weasley squinted at the blackboard; to be fair, it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-colored steam now filling the dungeon. There was a reason the Slytherins always sat at the front of the class.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times anti-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

"Which direction do you stir the potion, Weasley?"

"Anti- anti-clockwise, sir." He was deathly pale.

"Which way did you stir it?"

"C- clockwise, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Clockwise, sir."

"How many times did you stir it?"

"T-three, sir."

"Are you sure, Weasley? Are you really sure of that?"

There was a dreadful silence. You could have heard a pin drop.

"No, sir."

Professor Snape smiled, and it was a scary sight to see. Weasley shivered, as though the temperature had suddenly dropped.

"I know that, Weasley, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."

The contents of Weasley's cauldron vanished.

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday."

Harry tried not to smirk as he transfered an aliquot of his potion to a flagon. Professor Snape really hated Gryffindors and incompetence. Neville Longbottom's had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement, and he was now having to gouge it out of his cauldron. Weasley would hardly get a worse mark than him.

It wasn't just Gryffindors who had failed either.

There was a small explosion, and Goyle's flagon shattered. "Bugger!" shouted Goyle as the arm of his robe caught on fire. Tracy was quick with her Water Blast Charm, but the robe was ruined. Even if the burn could be repaired, the smell of smoke would never come out.

"All right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. It didn't get me."

"Lucky. Pay more attention."

Everyone else marched up to Snape's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, everyone hurried out of the dungeons and up to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Well, that was fun," Draco said.

"Loads," agreed Harry. "Though I don't know if I care so much for this working by myself bit."

"Makes sense. You don't have a partner during the practical either."

"This is true. Oh well. Time to find out how good I really am."

"Better than Weasley. I've never seen him so fit to be tied. It was beautiful."

Blaise Zabini, the returned Slytherin, cleared his throat. "Weasley hasn't changed a bit, I see. I did rather think he might have learned a thing or two since first year."

"We keep trying to teach him," Draco replied. "He just keeps forgetting. I'm sure it's because he was dropped on his head quite often as a child. It's the first day back, and already I'm tired of him. This is not going to be a pleasant year."

"He's nothing but a braggart," Harry said. "Every time it comes to wands or blows, he loses, yet he keeps instigating. It's extremely puzzling."

"The trouble being, Hair," Blaise said, "that the more people hear something said by a loud mouth, the more they believe it."

"That's right, frog." Draco considered the new-old Slytherin for a moment. "How would you go about taking care of him? Teach him a lesson, then?"

"I'd dare him to enter a vampire's lair at dusk and switch his wand with a Transfigured baguette before he went in," Blaise said without missing a beat.

"Wow," Draco said after a moment. "That's twisted. You do that to some chap? Is that why you came back? Get tossed out by the snooty French?"

"I'm here, Dray, because Mother had a falling out with Madame Maxime."

"Stop calling me that ridiculous name. What sort of falling out?"

"What does it matter, Dray? Mother pulled me out in protest. She's rather fond of that, you might recall. It was that incident with the mountain troll that made her transfer me to Beauxbatons in the first place."

"So what are you doing back? It's not like this place has gotten any safer. Just ask Harry."

Zabini shot Harry an inquisitive glance.

"Basilisks, dementors, Death Eaters, dragons; the list goes on."

"Sounds like I've missed some exciting times."

The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows. Despite the foul weather, Harry found himself somewhat cheerful.

"Hey, Sam! Have a seat for a minute."

"Sure, Harry. What's up?"

"We had Professor Umbridge this morning, and she had an announcement to make. She's going to bring back the Duelling Club."

"The Duelling Club? Fantastic."

"All prefects have to join. We might need to defend the students."

"Reasonable. Remember when Professor Snape taught all the prefects to do the Patronus Charm? He said anyone who couldn't do it would be replaced."

"He meant it too."

"He did. This is no different. I'll spread the word."

"There should be an official announcement made soon."

"Very good. I'll spread it around. Thanks."

After quickly devouring some sliced chicken and cucumber sandwiches, they hurried along to the Transfiguration classroom. They sat down and readied quills and parchment, awaiting Professor McGonagall who also felt it necessary to remind her students of the examination at the end of the school year.

"These tests are the most important you have yet faced. Your results will directly impact which subjects you will be permitted to continue studying here at Hogwarts. Only those who achieve Outstanding or Exceeds Expectations will be allowed to attempt NEWT Transfiguration. You cannot pass an OWL," she went on grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work."

Goyle, who was pants at Transfiguration, groaned slightly.

"Yes, Mister Goyle, even you. If you would only apply yourself-" She shook her head, dismissing her tangent. "See me after class, Mister Goyle. We'll work out a plan for you."

"Rum luck," Draco said in an undertone to Harry.

"Today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

Harry felt Professor McGonagall was overselling it quite a bit. To his delight, he was able to do it at once. It was effortless. Somehow his wand moved of its own accord in the proscribed pattern. He got the ennunciation exactly right, and his snail vanished from sight.

"What's this? Excellent, Mister Potter. Ten points to Slytherin for a masterful first effort."

"Well done, Harry," Draco whispered. "Show me how it's done."

Professor McGonagall's eyes lingered on Harry for a moment or two longer than he was comfortable with. He turned away and corrected Draco's grip on his wand.

By the end of the lesson, Harry was the only one who had successfully done the task, though Draco had come close, and he was the only one not given homework.

"Unfair," Draco hissed. "I almost had it."

"You still had half your snail."

The Herbology lesson was held in Greenhouse Two, which was an even more interesting place than where they'd been last year. This greenhouse was commonly kept locked and chained just to make it really clear how off-limits it was.

During the last year, Harry and Padma had often worked together in Herbology, Slytherin's shared class with Ravenclaw. Now that they were broken up, Harry would need to find a new partner. Theo had often worked alone last year. Now Harry put his bag on the same table. Draco and Daphne sat down with them as well.

Theo looked up with those empty eyes of his. Harry tried to supress his crawling flesh at how very Not There his friend was. Theo looked back down at his hands in his lap.

Pansy and Terry still worked with Goyle and Mandy Brocklehurst. Crabbe, Millie, and Tracy were joined by Zabini. Padma, Harry noticed, was working with Anthony Goldstein.

"Welcome to Greenhouse Two, fifth years," Professor Sprout said cheerfully. "If you thought you worked hard last year, you haven't seen anything yet. The sheer variety of botany is all fair game on the OWL. You'll likely need to memorize your textbook, if you haven't already."

"There's no new text, but I'll expect you to take detailed notes. This year we cover some plants that are really dangerous. Knowing how to identify and protect yourself from the plants in this greenhouse will be a major part of our new curriculum this year. Professor Dumbledore thinks it's wise to study as many ways to fight the war unconventionally as we can. For example, what did we study in second year that could be a very potent offensive weapon? Yes, Mister Boot."

"Mandrakes, Professor. The cry of the mature Mandrake is fatal to those who hear it. The cries of immature Mandrakes can incapacitate people or drive them away."

"Well done. Five points to Ravenclaw."

Terry cast a smug expression towards Theo, but he was facing the wrong direction. Terry settled for smirking at Draco and Harry. It seemed that the rivalry was starting up without pause. Draco waited until Sprout's back was turned and flashed him a crude hand gesture.

"Today we'll be talking about the identifying features of the Man-Eating Snapdragon. Now I have a fine speciman here behind the chain-link fence. Go on and take a good look."

They took careful notes for one half of the double lesson and spent the other half in Greenhouse Seven replanting Flutterby bushes, which Professor Sprout assured them would come up on the O.W.L..

"For homework I want you all to write two scrolls of parchment on the Snapdragons. Be sure to include ways of subduing them."

Harry tried not to groan. Two scrolls of parchment? Yuck! Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprout's preferred type of fertilizer, the Slytherins tromped down to the dungeons to bathe and prepare for dinner.

"Start every assignment the night it's due so you get a rough idea of how long it'll take you to complete," Palce recommended.

They took that advice to hand and hurried up to the library right after dinner to get going on their first essays of what promised to be a great many more. Being excused by McGonagall was a stroke of luck, and he used the extra time to get his Herbology assignment in order. They worked until minutes before curfew and ran for the dorm. Instead of heading to bed, they set up again in the common room and got another couple of hours of studying done before turning in.

UMBRIDGE REVIVES DUELLING CLUB

by Rita Skeeter

When Hogwarts last had a duelling club, it was the brainchild of disgraced celebrity Gilderoy Lockhart who got blasted arse over teakettle by Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, at the first and only meeting. The students also saw a spectacular display by Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy (then 2nd year Slytherins). Malfoy summoned a snake and Lockhart foolishly jumped in and made the snake mad. The fangs were nearly descending on a Muggleborn student, Hufflepuff's Justin Finch-Fletchly, when Potter revealed one of his gifts to us and employed Parseltongue to save the boy's life. It is perhaps the first instance of the traditionally Dark talent to be used for good. If anyone could do it, it would be our Harry.

Professor Umbridge announced last night that the Ministry was directing the reformation of the duelling club, and we hope that no such mishaps will take place while a qualified instructor is in charge. The goal of the club is to give students a place to hone battle spells in safety and with proper instruction.

"Many students feel helpless being here at school while their families are at risk. Here at Hogwarts we are safe, but many of our society are exposed with improper protections and safeguards in place. I urge everyone to read the Ministry pamphlets and implement the advice therein. With the formation of this youth club, students will have a place to work out their feelings. They will be able to practice, to be able to feel like they are doing something to help."

Asked about the new club, school governor Lucius Malfoy, 41, of Wiltshire, had this to say: "Everyone who can must fight, for we struggle against a Darkness so absolute that it would murder children. It will take all of our goodness, all of our righteousness to combat this evil. It begins with good solid practice. The governors support this new club to the fullest."

Tuesday morning came too soon, and it looked to be just as intense a day as Monday. Arithmancy followed by three double lessons. Harry groaned. Right after lunch was double History. Even though Harry liked History, he hated having it on a full stomach. Binns was so boring he could put a brick to sleep.

"Welcome to OWL year Arithmancy, fifth years," Professor Vector said brightly. "This year we are going to dive right into algebra. If you did the required reading, you should be well-prepared to do so. We will study new material until Christmas, and after the New Year, we will begin a comprehensive review of all material covered thus far."

Oh joy. Review. Well, at least there was only new stuff for half the year. It would be interesting to see how much of the old stuff he had retained.

"There is a significant written portion to the examination, and you will have to solve many equations and write many proofs. It is a long road, but a rewarding one for those who achieve OWL. In the NEWT-level, we will begin a study of the wonderful world of trigonometry and calculus, wherein we will apply all of the concepts of geometry and algebra we have discussed. This is where it gets fun."

Harry had heard the seventh-years bemoaning the topic of calculus and wondered how their teacher could promise them something so awful with such a perfectly happy smile.

"Let us begin by discussing equations with multiple variables."

They struggled through Arithmancy and headed to Defence where Professor Umbridge continued her lesson about countercurses. She assigned them an essay on basic wand maintenance.

"Excuse me, Professor," Pansy said.

"Do raise your hand, Miss Parkinson."

"Sorry, ma'am." Pansy raised her hand.

"Yes, dear?"

"I don't understand the nature of the essay. What has wand polish got to do with Defence?"

"Well it's quite simple, really. Your wand is your most important tool. Given time and ingredients, a wizard can brew a potion to do just about anything, but the wand is what truly releases our direct magic. The power to summon or banish, to conjure or curse, is all possible because of the wand. It's why the Ministry snaps the wands of convicted criminals. A wand that is lost or misplaced has a way of returning to its master. Such a valuable object should be cared for, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, yes."

"Then knowing how to keep your wand in top form is a matter of personal security. One roll, if you please."

Harry ate a light lunch. Maybe if he didn't stuff himself, like he saw Weasley doing at the Gryffindor table, he would be able to pay attention through History of Magic. Nevertheless, as he'd feared, Harry couldn't help but doze as Professor Binns moved on from goblin wars to the giant wars. At least if he slept in class, Harry thought drowsily, he'd be able to stay up later at night and be productive.

The last class of the day was their first incidence of Charms, and it was a double lesson. Harry generally enjoyed his time here. Professor Flitwick had always treated him quite fairly.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. In the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

They then spent over an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their O.W.L., and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.

At least Harry was able to handle the Summoning Charm without a problem. When he was able to demonstrate the Charm on the first go, he earned ten points for Slytherin and was exempted from the homework.

"That's twice now, you bloody sod," Draco railed as they headed back to the dorm.

"I needed my broom in the first task," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to do some of this homework all the rest of us have to do."

Harry laughed. "Even more work? No thanks."

"Somehow I thought you'd say that."

On Wednesday, the schedule eased up a bit. Those who weren't taking Divination were able to skip first period. Harry joined the others in the common room as they used the time to their advantage. They only had a single Charms lesson before lunch, then in Transfiguration, McGonagall collected their homework about Vanishing Spells and assigned them another long essay about the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell. Wednesday was also Astronomy day. They had a normal lesson to round off their classes, but they also had a full lesson that night up on the Tower.

Thursday was another day to sleep in, but of course they didn't. Double Muggle Studies was a class no Slytherin took, but the so-called "free" was the perfect time to get homework completed. In Ancient Runes, Professor Babbling began them on Celtic symbols. After the new year, they would also begin to review the Futhark runes and derivatives they had already studied. The O.W.L.s would require translation and the building of runic structures.

Lunch was followed by double Arithmancy and a splitting headache that put him in a foul mood for double Potions where their moonstone essays were due. Snape stood at the front of the room and watched as each student deposited a scroll on his desk. He took the opportunity to frown at many of them.

"I have the results of your Draughts of Peace from our last meeting. I'm pleased to announce that four were made perfectly. Forty points to Slytherin for the fine efforts of Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter, Mister Nott, and Miss Greengrass. Everyone else will write an essay about the Draught to be turned in next session. Now, turn your attention to the board. Moonstone, as you should know all about from your assignment is commonly used in what sort of potions, Greengrass?"

Professor Snape's questions could earn or lose a great many points. Before long, Slytherin had earned a quick thirty. Harry had to be sharp and on his toes. Thinking with a headache was righteously difficult. Thankfully that was the last class of the day.

All in all, the first week back was a bit of a shocker. The number of double lessons, coupled with the quantity of homework assignments, was exhausting. The staggering amount of work and study being required of them was intimidating. It was as though each teacher thought they were only going to be taking one of the tests - theirs - and were trying to cram the whole of the discipline into each of their heads.

Friday night, normally a time to relax, was now anything but calming. It hadn't taken long to accept that every available minute should be devoted to academic study. There would be a few hours allotted over the weekend for recreation (in order to maintain top mental acuity), but otherwise it was all essays and charts and diagrams and translations. The fifth years were awake just as late as the rest of the house, but they were in their dorms with their noses in the books.

Saturday morning, normally a time to sleep in, was now anything but restful. The alarm went off at the same time as on a weekday. They still showered and ate a quick breakfast as they headed up to the library to read up for their Transfiguration.

Lunch was also brief. Harry was glad to talk of anything but Inanimatus Conjurus, but all too soon the books were calling him back. Tracy didn't even look up from her reading and ate one-handed.

They returned to the library until dinner, this time going over Astronomy and Arithmancy. Harry was reviewing his notes on the moons of Jupiter.

Thinking of Astronomy made him think about the moon. It would be full tonight. Moony and Padfoot would be racing around in that room in the basement, chasing and playing. Harry keenly missed his almost-uncles. He'd finally been allowed to run with his father's old pack, yet he couldn't leave school. Well, he might change into the mongoose and escape off the grounds, but London was much too far to Apparate. By the time he got there, the sun would have gone down anyway, but just because he couldn't be there in person (in mongoose?) didn't mean he couldn't be there in spirit. He would run in the night because he could.

Harry secured himself behind his curtains and pulled out the magic mirror that let him talk to his godfather.

"Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Hi, Sirius."

"Harry, is everything well?"

"Yes. I won't stay long. I know what tonight is. I just wanted to say hi. Tell Moony I'm thinking of him. I wish I could be there with you guys."

"I'll tell him, Harry, but we were just about to head to the basement. I'm sorry, but-"

"It's fine, Padfoot. Go. I'll catch you up later."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

Harry left the shelter of the dormitory, bringing along his invisibility cloak for the morning, when he would have to get back to the dungeons unseen. He ambled along the corridor, hurrying along a couple of fourth year Ravenclaws who were being a little too public with their display of affection.

The hour grew later, and the full moon rose over the horizon. Harry watched it from his perch in a window nook. With a thought, he transformed.

The world always exploded on him with a rushing suddenness whenever he changed. The scents, the sounds, and the sensations were all overwhelming. He blinked several times and shook himself out.

I'm thinking of you, Moony.

Harry set off at a brisk trot. The suits of armour were truly towering from this perspective. He encountered several ghosts, including Ravenclaw's Grey Lady, but they paid him no mind.

Harry practiced darting from shadow to shadow. His mongoose had a very long jump, and he could spring in the air a fair amount as well. He made his way up the next passageway and turned left towards some unused classrooms.

His sharpened hearing picked up the sound of students out of bounds. From the sound of things, Harry didn't want to disturb them, especially not as a prefect, so he hurried on his way.

A lot of students went and did that sort of thing at least once in awhile. Harry knew the mechanics from one of Sirius' many talks, and he'd been curious about girls ever since he'd first heard Elan Malfoy talk about kissing Jamie Davis. Nobody he knew was bragging about sex, though from the many stories Sirius told, they probably were just not talking about it.

As a fifth year, Harry himself was considered an older student. That didn't mean, Sirius had cautioned him, that he had to go out and start shagging anything that moved. All it meant, he had continued, was that he was of an age where the occasional roll in the hay happened for those who felt it was right for them. If it happened for Harry, terrific. If not, then it would happen later, when it was time.

Was that couple behind the door in love? Harry hoped so, even if it was for a very short period of time. Feelings came and went, hearts could be broken and mended, but Harry had learned from the adults in his life that physical intimacy was cheap and meaningless without love.

Harry didn't know much about love and girls firsthand. He'd snogged a bit with Padma, nothing more than some kissing and cuddling. He'd never taken her anywhere with the intention of more.

He'd lost track of how many of his female friends had kissed him and was downright astounded. He liked all of them, each in her own way. It was impossibly hard to decide on just one to ask out.

What criteria should he use? If he'd met the love of his life, wouldn't he know it by now? So was this a question of how to fill time? Because he didn't want to hurt any of his friends by leading them on. Or did he even know what true love would feel like and needed to experiment in order to discover it?

Going for the prettiest one like Sirius had advised hadn't worked, but that plan had never been about finding love, only about apporting one's self with style. Padma certainly had fulfilled that and more. They'd looked stunning together at the Yule Ball.

His friendship with Tracy was starting to recover from her crush on him. She could be around him now and not be wistful and sappy. It was good to have her back. He'd missed her brain during the Triwizard Tournament. Harry hadn't wanted to risk the closest thing he'd ever had to a sister by getting romantic with her, but she'd been stubborn. Now it seemed she was coming around, and Harry couldn't be happier for her good timing. He knew he was going to need her in the fight against Voldemort.

Harry jumped up and perched in a window. The moon was very large tonight. According to Professor Sinistra, it was an atmospheric illusion and had absolutely no effect on magic. The position of the moon could, of course, and any magicks performed under the full light would be amplified. Certain other phases affected specific branches of magic for reasons that still made his head hurt with the maths of it all, but the full moon graced all. Conversely, nearly all magic was weakened during the new moon. Nearly. Certain Dark rituals required the cover of complete darkness.

How many of those Dark rituals had Voldemort performed in order to become so powerful? Yet Harry supposedly was equal to him and had a power he did not. The thought was a little frightening. Everyone did seem to have a comment or two about how Harry exceeded their expectations. He knew a great many charms and spells that most wizards his age did not. Granted he had been in need of such teachings. The hand of prophecy at play, perhaps?

He was exercising one of his many powers at this very moment. The Animagus Transfiguration was one of the most complicated bits of magic ever, and Harry had mastered it. He jumped down from the window and ran off up the hall.

Harry turned the corner and lurched to a halt. His hackles went up, his tail went bushy, and he held back a warning chitter. It was Mrs. Norris, the dust-coloured mop of a cat owned by the Squib caretaker Filch.

Mrs. Norris reared back. Harry knew she would be confused, having never encountered a mongoose before, and who knew how well the old fleabag reacted to new situations? She hissed sharply, and one paw reared back ready to strike, claws fully extended.

Harry kept himself low and tensed. He hadn't planned on this. He didn't really want to get into a fight, but he couldn't change back into a human, or she'd fetch Filch.

With a yowl, she tried to claw at him. Faster than a flash, he jumped back out of the way and then forward immediately. He bit at her face, trying to intimidate more than injure. His teeth clacked together in front of her, and he backed off just as she clawed at him again.

"Ick-ick-ick!" Harry chittered.

Mrs. Norris growled warily, but she did not move forward. Harry advanced one step, and the growls went up in pitch. He jumped out of the way again as she tried to scratch his eyes out.

This was really getting to be not fun at all. Harry dashed away from Mrs. Norris so quickly that she didn't spring after him for a couple of seconds. That headstart enabled him to get down the corridor and up the stairs in the entrance hall. He jumped on to a moving staircase and turned back in triumph to the fuming Mrs. Norris, who continued to hiss and spit at him. When the grinding stone came to a halt, she turned back up the corridor. Harry knew he'd be playing tag with her all night. He wondered if he'd run into Filch.

Harry decided to give the castle a rest and pattered down to the dungeons. There was plenty of space to run around down here. He ran from the stairs to the Potions classroom to the dorm back to the stairs and around and around. He curled up in front of the Potions lab to rest.

He was a bit tired, but there was no way he was going to change back to a boy a moment sooner than he had to. He'd had a blast running around the castle, but all the wonderous variety of new and interesting odors was not enough to distract him from one simple realization. He missed Moony and Padfoot. The smell of the great dog, the scent of the crazed wolf, a smidge of madness on the musk were as familiar to him as his own.

Even after being together only twice during the summer, it still mattered tremendously to Harry that he'd been accepted into the little Marauders club. Though he still lacked a name, he felt like one of them. He felt closer to them, and through them his dad. Harry wished deep down in his heart of hearts that Voldemort had never happened and his parents could have raised him. Then Prongs would be running with them too. If there was no Voldemort, there might even be Wormtail too.

But he missed Moony and Padfoot.