Disclaimer: If I could take fifteen steps to get from a great mansion made entirely of the cash that came from creating Harry Potter, to the second Harry Potter cash mansion, I would have tried to create a few more teachers for the upper classmen, to avoid trying to explain how to design a school schedule that allows twelve to fourteen teachers to teach five days of classes to seven years of students without math itself committing ritual suicide to escape the madness.

Chapter Eight

"The water in your moat looks like fire."

Susan Bones blinked at the observation from her friend and roommate, Hannah Abbott, and looked at the triangular lines she had drawn on the large strip of parchment that lay stretched out between the two of them.

"It's because they're too sharp." Hannah went on, using the feather of her quill to point in demonstration. "For waves you want more of a gentle, drifting line, like stretched out W's rather than upside down V's."

She was right, of course. Hannah was always right when it came to art. The other Hufflepuff was already a fantastic artist, even at twelve years old. She drew realistic looking people, while Susan and most of the rest of the people they knew were relegated to stick figures whose anatomy if translated into the living world probably would have looked like some ancient eldritch horror.

"It is fire." Susan decided to go with it. "A fire moat. Better than a water moat. Because it's fire."

The Hufflepuff second years, along with the Ravenclaws across the room, had been chatting amongst themselves for the past ten minutes. Professor McGonagall had been about to start class when Professor Flitwick had all but sprinted into the room and insisted on talking to the other teacher in the corridor.

Some of the students studied, others simply talked, while a few had taken out books to read or games to play with one another. Susan and Hannah were part of the latter group. The parchment they were drawing on wasn't exactly normal. It was enchanted similarly to the way that wizard portraits were, though much less so.

"A fire moat?" Hannah seemed to consider that, as she examined the crude castle that the other girl had drawn, along with the stick figure archers that lined the wall. Susan felt a little embarrassed at the difference between her amateurish attempts at drawing and the trio of figures that made up Hannah's work on the other side.

Unlike Susan's own blocky and uneven scribbling, Hannah's warriors looked powerful and imposing. Each of the three looked almost real enough to come off the page in spite of the short time that Hannah had spent sketching them out. They wore obviously gleaming metal armor, and were adorned with weaponry. The first carried a long broadsword that he was pointing toward the castle on the other side of the parchment with, along with a shield on his other arm. The second carried two shorter bladed axes, while the third was equipped with a bow and quiver of arrows that looked much more detailed than the ones that Susan had given her own defenders.

Yeah, she was jealous. Susan didn't mind admitting it to herself as she reached up and tugged one of her friend's blonde pigtails lightly. "Yup. Fire moat. Whoosh. Try to beat that, Arty Pants."

Balancing the quill on the back of two fingers, Hannah made a soft meeping noise as her pigtail was tugged. "Arty Pants?" Then a giggle escaped the girl as a broad smile crossed her face. "Oooh, okay." She took the quill in her hand and began to draw an addition to her three warriors.

While the other girl was working, Susan thought back to the previous class period. Why had Harry been staring at her like that? At first, she had assumed that he wanted to tell her something, but was waiting for class to end. Yet when the period was over, Harry had shown no sign of wanting her to wait. She had lagged behind when the class filed out, yet only Hermione and Ron had eventually emerged, saying that Harry was talking to Professor Flitwick.

So Susan had shrugged it away and gone on to Transfiguration with the rest of her housemates. But now Professor Flitwick had come to find Professor McGonagall, right after Harry Potter talked to him? What was going on?

"There." Hannah announced, laying her quill down.

Drawn out of her pondering, Susan looked at what the other girl had done, and stared. "Wings?" She blinked twice. "You gave them wings?"

"Yup!" The blonde Hufflepuff beamed at her red-haired friend. "Now they can fly over your fire moat."

"That... is... absolutely cheating." Susan proclaimed, receiving Hannah's stuck out tongue in response before both girls giggled.

Finally, Hannah considered the parchment. "I think that's all of our turns, isn't it?"

Susan nodded. "Uh huh. I drew the castle, then you drew your guys, then I drew the archers, then you drew their weapons, then I drew the moat, and now you drew their wings. That's three turns each."

Both girls touched their wands to the small control rune on either side of the parchment, and the tips began to glow as they interacted with the magics already placed on it through the rune. Before their eyes, the drawings on the paper began to react according to their will, sent through their wands and into the receiving magic of the parchment.

Hannah's winged warriors took flight, looking somehow majestic in spite of their two dimensional nature, while Susan's poor uneven stick figure archers took awkward aim and began to rain small ink-arrows down toward the attackers.

The battle, silly as it may have been, was joined then. Both girls alternately squealed or groaned as their sketched figures went to war, the ink moving on the parchment like it was alive.

Eventually, Susan was down to her last two archers, while Hannah had one winged warrior, the leader with the shield, remaining. Not that her technical numerical advantage meant much. She had begun with twelve of the stick figures, so it was unlikely that the remaining duo would be able to fend off the flying terror for long.

"Miss Bones." Professor McGonagall's crisp, no-nonsense voice interrupted from the doorway. She beckoned when the girl looked up. "Might I see you for a moment?"

Giving Hannah a shrug when her friend sent her a questioning look, Susan slid off her seat and started back to the door. She wondered what this was about, and if it had anything to do with Harry staring at her earlier.

Once she emerged into the hallway, Susan found that the two professors had been joined by another familiar figure. "Aunt Amelia?" Immediately, as soon as she saw the woman who was both her aunt and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Susan's fears mounted. In the last war, both before Susan had been born, her grandparents, uncle, aunt, and cousins had all been killed by Death Eaters.

"Did... did something happen to mum or dad?" Susan asked, a little afraid of the answer.

Clearly knowing where her niece's thoughts had gone, Aunt Amelia's expression softened. "Oh my dear, no. No, Lachlan and Freya are both just fine. We simply need someone to fetch a student from another class, and I know you won't dawdle, now will you?"

Susan shook her head quickly. "Of course not, Aunt Amelia. Um, who do you need to talk to?"

"Harry Potter." Her aunt answered. "He has brought something of grave importance to our attention. Please go and bring him here, will you, dear?"

Professor McGonagall gave her a note to give to Professor Riddle, and Susan started off. As she jogged down the corridor toward the stairs to the dungeons, not wanting to keep her professors and aunt waiting, the young Hufflepuff once again found herself wondering just what was going on with Harry already this year.

So lost in thought was she, that Susan nearly walked right past the potions classroom. Only hearing Professor Riddle's voice made her halt, moving back to the door and raising her hand to knock.

"Don't tell me no one is interested in turning into the vaunted, famous Harry Potter."

The silky voice from within stopped Susan, and she frowned in confusion before tentatively twisting the knob. Holding her breath, she eased the door open a very slight crack, just enough to peek inside to see what was going on.

Luckily for her, the door was completely out of the way. She found herself staring through the tiny crack at the back of Professor Riddle's head, his long dark hair a bit wild as he looked back and forth between the students at their tables. In his hand, the professor held a cup as though offering it to anyone who would take it.

"Mr. Malfoy." Professor Riddle focused on the boy with the white-blonde hair. "Surely you wouldn't mind showing the rest of the class how polyjuice potion works. You're not afraid of looking like Mr. Potter for the class period, are you?"

Polyjuice potion? Immediately, Susan felt a little sick inside. Her aunt had told her all about that stuff, and how bad it was when it was used without the subject's permission. From the look of near panic on Harry's face that she could make out even from back here, the famous boy clearly hadn't given that permission.

This was wrong and unfair. Professor Riddle shouldn't be teaching his students to use polyjuice against each other. Taking someone's form without their permission or acceptance, the idea made her queasy.

Should she go back and get her aunt? No, the damage would be done by then. Biting her lip, Susan carefully poked the very tip of her wand through the crack. Focusing on the cup, she whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa."

As soon as the cup floated out of the Professor's unsuspecting hand, she gave a slight twist with her wand to make it slip to the side and then let it fall and spill over the floor. Then Susan immediately let the door shut as quietly as she could, and counted to thirty while literally shaking with fear at the idea of being found out.

One thing was for certain, she couldn't tell anyone what she had just done. Not even Harry himself. This had to be her little secret.

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Moments earlier

"Mr. Malfoy. Surely you wouldn't mind showing the rest of the class how polyjuice potion works. You're not afraid of looking like Mr. Potter for the class period, are you?"

Daphne's Slytherin self was telling her not to panic. Sadly, its voice was drowned out by the rest of her, which was in full-on screaming hysterics. If anyone, let alone Malfoy, took that potion, her little secret was going to come out faster than she could say 'oops'.

Both Hermione and Ron had looked like they wanted to volunteer, but Daphne had shaken her head at them repeatedly. She didn't trust either to be able keep quiet about the particular changes the would experience. Besides, the potion would probably give them her natural blonde hair, not the black she had been spelling it to be.

She had to find some way to stop this from happening. Could she demand that the potion not be taken? Could she somehow destroy the cup and the cauldron with a stunning spell? But that would be completely obvious. Daphne wracked her brain, eyes widening as Draco began to raise his hand with an obvious smirk. He was going to take the potion!

Then, almost as though it had been listening to her desperate yet silent pleas, the cup in Professor Riddle's hand flew up, tipped over, and fell to the floor.

For a second, everyone, Daphne included, stared as the potion seeped into the floor.

Riddle was the first to recover. His eyes narrowed, and his head turned with snake-like suddenness to stare at 'Harry'. Seeing his intense gaze locked onto 'him', Daphne kept her hands held out to both sides so that he could easily see that 'he' had no wand and thus couldn't have done that.

Still glaring, Riddle gestured with his hand toward the cup, which flicked up off the floor and into his grasp before he turned back to the class. "SOMEONE..." He declared loudly, "thinks that they're funny. Someone in this class believes that they can waste valuable potion, and my time, by playing a little joke."

While the Professor began to threaten the class, Daphne focused on the remaining problem. Yes, someone, some glorious person, had just saved her. But she could worry about which of her classmates it was, and why exactly they had done that (did they know?) once the rest of the potion was dealt with.

Could she spill it too? Make it tip over somehow? No, there was no way to do that without making it obvious. Maybe she could add something to the potion to ruin it? Again, there was the problem of doing so without being seen.

Or maybe she could do it in plain sight, and still not get caught. Daphne paused to consider. Most potions, especially complicated ones like this one had to be, were very easily ruined. Everything from the tiniest measurement, to the exact number and direction of stirs, to the age of some of the ingredients had to be perfect.

Unseen beneath her robe, Daphne slipped the shoe off of her right foot. Edging a step closer to the professor's desk and to the fancy emerald carpet that he had laid out under it, she kept watching Professor Riddle while she began to rub her sock-covered foot rapidly against the carpet. Faster and faster she rubbed.

Finally, once she was relatively certain she was ready, Daphne lifted a hand to the teacher. "Don't worry, Professor. We can just use more." She reached toward the cauldron as though to demonstrate.

Riddle turned, just as Daphne's fingers neared the cauldron. The static charge she had built up reacted with the magic permeating the potion, and a spark of energy leapt between her fingers and the liquid within. It stung a little, and the potion immediately turned carrot orange before beginning to boil over.

Keeping the presence of mind to slip her foot back into her shoe, Daphne stumbled backwards from the ruined potion. She let her eyes widen while clamping down on the impulse to grin like an idiot. She had done it, she had destroyed the damn polyjuice before it could out her secret. All it had taken was a little bit of static energy, the same way she had learned to sting her little sister when Astoria was being extra-annoying at home.

"O-oh... whoops... I- I'm sorry, Professor." She made herself stammer, still staring at the cauldron as the disgusting concoction bubbled up over the edge of it.

"You're sorry?" Riddle seemed ready to boil over as much as the potion. "Do you have the slightest idea how much time and effort you've wasted now, you-"

There was a knock at the door, and then it opened before Susan Bones poked her head in. She looked a bit pale, and spoke quickly. "Professor Riddle, sir? Um, sorry to bother you, but it's Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, and my aunt, sir. They want to talk to Harry."

The anger that had been on Riddle's face vanished as suddenly as though it had been wiped away by a spell. "Well then," he said simply and almost pleasantly. "I suppose you should go see what is so important to merit an audience with Madam Bones and our Deputy Headmistress, Mr. Potter."

After only a momentary hesitation, Daphne took the offered escape. She moved quickly to the door, glancing back once before going into the hall and letting out a breath of relief.

"Yeah..." Susan agreed. "He's scary sometimes, huh?"

"Who's scary?" A new voice interrupted.

Both girls jumped, but Daphne relaxed once she looked that way. "Oh, hey, Tonks." She replied without thinking.

The Auror-in-training, whose hair was shockingly bright pink at the moment, lifted a hand in greeting before pausing. "Hey, how did you know who I was?"

Shite. Daphne had been distracted and had completely forgotten that 'he' wasn't supposed to know who the older girl was yet. "I-uh-" She thought quickly. "I saw you-" She coughed to buy precious seconds. "-in the Leaky Cauldron over the summer. I was talking to Tom and you ran off in a rush and he said something about Tonks always being late."

The older girl was blushing by that point, though the blush was a bright purple rather than the soft pink it should have been. Metamorphmagi were weird, though Daphne couldn't deny how useful an ability like that would be in her current situation.

"Right then." Tonks replied before gesturing. "C'mon, the big wigs sent me to see what the hold up was."

"You're training with Uncle Alastor, aren't you?" Susan piped up.

"Uncle Alastor?" Tonks shuddered.

The red-haired girl shrugged self consciously. "He's not really my uncle, but he visited Aunt Amelia a lot when I was younger and I just got used to calling him that."

"What's it like?" The older witch wondered. "To have Mad-Eye Moody hanging around for your birthdays and such?"

Susan's mouth twisted a little before she replied, "About half of the presents he gives me are books about avoiding traps and stuff."

"And the other half?" Daphne couldn't help but ask.

"They're traps." Susan gave a long, put upon sigh. "Uncle Alastor says they're to teach me never to let my guard down, even among family and friends. You know what he always says."

She and Tonks both intoned together, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE."

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"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as Daphne sat down between her and Ron to eat lunch. "Why did Professor McGonagall and Susan's aunt want to talk to you? Who is Susan's aunt anyway?"

"Madam Bones." Daphne answered. "She runs the magical law enforcement department. They wanted to talk to me about what I said this morning at breakfast." She lowered her voice then. "You know, about not remember you-know-who's name."

Hermione's face twisted into a sulk. "I still can't figure out how he pulled something like that off. Even the teachers don't remember it?"

Daphne shook her head. "Not even Professor Dumbledore. He was there too by the end of it. They kept asking me when I noticed, what I was thinking about when I noticed it, what else I didn't remember, you know, stuff like that."

"It's a bloody bit of good magic." Ron put in. "Making everyone forget your name, I mean. Especially for someone who ain't even supposed to be, you know..." He made a twirling motion with his hand.

"Alive?" Daphne guessed though she had no idea what the gesture was supposed to mean. "Yeah, I can't figure that part out either. I thought it'd take him at least a year to get his strength back. But if he can pull off magic like this within a few months?" She shuddered at the idea of what... he would be capable of before long. No wonder everyone was terrified of him.

"Wait." Hermione looked up as something occurred to her. "Does that mean that the Aurors know about all of this?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I mean, they know about you-know-who?"

"Yeah, some of them. Dumbledore told Madam Bones." Daphne replied as she poked at her food distractedly. "I'm not sure who else she told, but they're keeping it quiet. She even sent her niece away before they'd talk about any of it."

"I don't see why he doesn't just tell everyone." Ron said after swallowing the large mouthful he had taken so that he could speak. "Isn't it pretty bad to keep a secret that big? Besides, if he just told everybody, we could get ready to stomp old whoever he is into the dirt like the Cannons stomped the Kestrels last year."

"He doesn't want to cause a panic." Hermione explained what Daphne had already worked out. "If it takes awhile for... for him to actually show himself, people will panic first and then move on to not believing the Headmaster or Harry. This way the Aurors can prepare without the public knowing what's going on yet."

"Besides," The bushy-haired witch continued. "Telling everyone what they know is a good way to let you-know-who know everything we know too."

Daphne blinked at that. It was a part of Dumbledore's reasoning that she hadn't considered, and she looked at Hermione with new consideration.

"Oy." Ron nudged 'Harry'. "You better eat more than that if you're gonna keep your energy up for the practice Wood's bound to put you through after a summer of slacking off."

Right, Quidditch. As if Daphne didn't have enough to worry about already. She needed to be dealing with some of these problems that were piling up, not fly around willy nilly on a broom.

As her eyes found the staff table where Madam Bones and Tonks had apparently both elected to stay long enough to eat with the faculty, Daphne paused. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone.

"I'll be right back." She murmured to Harry's friends before getting up and walking to the front. There was no sign of Professor Riddle, but then, that wasn't surprising given his tendency to avoid spending much time around his fellow teachers. Daphne knew there wasn't much love lost between the heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor houses.

"Um, Madam Bones?" Daphne spoke up after stopping a couple feet away. Hopefully this plan wouldn't blow up in her face.

They all looked at 'him', and Daphne found herself blushing slightly at the expectant expressions. "Could I maybe talk to you about... umm... tutoring?"

The older woman raised an eyebrow archly. "Mr. Potter, I do believe that one should be more advanced than a second year before they volunteer to tutor." Her expression and tone made it hard to tell if she was kidding, though the wink that came a few seconds later helped.

Daphne shook her head. "No, I mean, I want to be tutored."

Professor McGonagall spoke up then, after gently dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "Potter, what on Earth do you wish to be tutored in? And why don't you speak with me about it?"

Rather than speak his own mind, Professor Dumbledore simply watched with an expression of curiosity.

"I- well- umm-" She had to think for a moment. "It's not that there's anything wrong with the classes here..." Daphne said carefully. "It's just that, well, we all know about the danger out there. And he's already strong enough to make everyone forget his name. I just think I need to work if I'm going to be safe."

"Oh don't you worry, my boy." Professor Lockhart, his perfectly coiffed hair gleaming. "I have every intention of showing you and the rest of the students precisely how you should have disarmed and captured that... fiend last year. It's all a part of my very special lesson plan entitled, A Battle Without Lockhart – How to Survive."

"The staff of Hogwarts will protect you, Mr. Potter." McGonagall spoke firmly and confidently though she couldn't help the doubtful look that she cast toward Lockheart.

"Yeah," Daphne nodded. "Except that they might not recognize the threat when it comes, remember? And you can't protect me all the time." She hesitated, waiting a moment before playing her trump card. "We found that out last year."

It was a low blow, and everyone around the table flinched. But it got the message across. McGonagall sighed and looked toward Dumbledore, who steepled his fingers and looked old and regretful for just a moment before he in turn looked toward the DMLE director.

Madam Bones, for her part, frowned uncertainly. "Mr. Potter, while I certainly appreciate your desire to better yourself, I am still not certain that this-"

"I want to feel safe." Daphne said bluntly. "I've been hiding a lot since the end of last year. I've been spending a lot of time alone, because I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me." The easiest lies to tell were those that weren't lies at all. Because Daphne felt these things, even if she had to adjust them to fit Potter.

"I feel like any day, any minute, I'm going to have to fight again, and I'm going to fail... again. I feel like I can't protect any of my friends, and I know, I know it's your jobs, but you can't be there all the time. Please. Please, I'm not asking for special twelve year old Auror training. Just... a little help, from a tutor."

It was Bill Weasly who spoke then, forcing Daphne to step on her own foot to avoid sighing dreamily at the sound of his voice. "I know I'm new, but I don't see the problem. Harry's right, whoever you-know-who is, he's not going to just leave him alone. And he won't act when Harry's surrounded by teachers."

"Hogwarts students are safe here." Dumbledore declared, but he nodded as well. "Yet I have no objections if it will make Harry feel a little safer to know a few things." He looked to 'him' seriously then. "But do be careful, Harry. Of the great many things that we often waste, a childhood is one of the most tragic."

Madam Bones finally laid her fork down and regarded Harry. "All of this presumes, of course, that I have anyone available to tutor you to begin with."

Tonks raised a hand promptly. "I can do it." When all of the eyes swiveled to her, the witch's hair turned a soft white color and she shrank a little in her seat.

"Trainee Tonks," Madam Bones spoke crisply. "I hope that by asking you to accompany me today did not give you the false impression that you were ready to be appointed an Auror in full."

The other woman's head shook rapidly, her hair doing a full on sprint through the color spectrum from white to black, with every color represented for a split second. "No, Madam." She said quickly. "I didn't mean to say that I knew everything. But Harry doesn't need to know everything, does he? He said it himself, he just wants a few tips, a little tutoring. And since I'm not a full Auror yet, well, I'm not on the clock on the weekends. Which means I can come here on Saturdays and tutor Harry. I wouldn't mind. Plus, maybe teaching someone else could help me pick up things myself."

For a moment, Madam Bones simply tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully, clearly considering what her trainee had said. Daphne held her breath until the older woman finally nodded. "Very well. But if I hear anything about you endangering the boy, or teaching him spells to get him in trouble or that he shouldn't be learning, you will be relegated to directing house-elf janitorial efforts in the most remote location I can dream of."

Gulping, Tonks nodded. "I understand, Madam Bones. It'll be simple things, I promise."

Then it was Professor McGonagall's turn. "Mr. Potter, if you will be learning from Miss Tonks on Saturdays, how will you attend Quidditch?"

Daphne had to force herself not to cackle with mad glee and look regretful. "I'm sorry, Professor. I just don't think I have it in me this year. Maybe I can come back to it later, but right now I just... I can't do it. What if I spend time on a game like that and something happens, something that I could have stopped if I spent my time learning?"

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat gently. "Harry, please, it is not your place to spent your childhood preparing for what may come later. Quidditch is a fine sport, and not a game to be given up on a whim."

"Like I said," Daphne spoke softly, yet firmly. "I might come back to it. But I can't focus on that right now, professors. Please, I just can't. I wouldn't feel right, and it's not really living a childhood if I'm forced into it, is it? I'm not saying that I'm going to do nothing but study, but if I'm going to feel safe at all, I just want to feel like I'm being proactive about something. Please?"

The headmaster and deputy headmistress exchanged glances, before both finally nodded. Professor McGonagall put her hand on 'Harry's' arm. "I'll speak with Mr. Wood. He should... hear the news from me."

With that settled, and the promise to meet Tonks that Saturday for their first lesson, Daphne returned to her table just in time for everyone else to stand up and start to leave. The Not-Dreamy-Bill variety of Weasley was waiting along with Granger.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, taking a bite of the apple he had kept for last.

"Tonks- the Auror trainee that Madam Bones brought with her- is going to tutor me in defense magic." Daphne explained. "I just wanted to be prepared in case something else happened."

"Why do you need her?" Hermione asked, blinking. "We have Professor Lockhart teaching us this year. He could teach anything..."

That was met by two pairs of rolled eyes. It was the very first time that Daphne could ever recall being completely in synch with the Weasley boy.

"No offense, Hermione," Ron put in. "But I'd take the extra lessons too if it didn't mean... uhh, extra lessons." He shuddered outright at the thought. "I dunno where you're gonna find the time to do all that this semester, mate. You've got classes, Quidditch, and now these lessons?"

"Umm..." How was she going to break this to him. She'd have to do it gently and carefully.

From across the Great Hall, the horrified shriek of a Quidditch captain receiving the very worst news he had ever considered swept through the room. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE QUIT?!"

Note: Lordlyhour, considering other instances of immaturity we see in the series, the idea of a wizard taking the time to create a spell to force someone to vomit slugs doesn't really sound all that surprising to me, personally.

As to your explanation for the Animagus transformation, you raise some good points. There are advantages to the ability of course. But I maintain that if a wizard himself doesn't have to be registered specifically, given all they can do, then registering an animagus still seems a bit... odd. Though I will admit your points have merit.

Anyway, Daphne has now gotten herself out of Quidditch for the time being. Not to mention being saved/saving herself from exposure-via-polyjuice. I was experimenting a little by switching to Susan's point of view for the beginning. Let me know whether you guys liked that or not, would you?

Thanks for reading!