AUTHOR'S NOTE: teachergirl, I've private-messaged you and you haven't answered back, so I'm going to ask you once more, this time right here in the story, where you can see it. We are 37 chapters in now, and you haven't left a single review with positive feedback. So I ask you, why are you wasting your time, exactly? Do you really have nothing better to do than read THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTERS' WORTH of a story you don't like? If I don't like a story, I just don't read it. Maybe you should do that. Or, I don't know, actually write your own story. Anything but bore yourself with a story you obviously hate. And in no way am I a thief. I have not plagiarized one bit; this is an AU of first year, so some of the plot points are going to be the same, some aren't. The only time I've used the "exact words" from the book is certain dialogue bits. That's it. And everything I've written in that isn't mine is underlined. I have my own "spin" on things as well. I told you, you'll see. Or you won't, if you take my advice and set your sights elsewhere. I'm not going to change the storyline or stop writing just because you want me to, so whatever you're trying to do, give it up. It's not working.

Now for chapter 37.

…

LATER THAT DAY…

"What do you mean, you want me to show you how to duel?"

Sirius was frowning slightly, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Harry was in his teacher's quarters for the second time that day, this time with Ron in tow. The two of them had headed there immediately after dinner, mainly because of what had happened during dinner.

"That's right," said Ron.

"But why?"

"Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are pathetic," said Harry. "We wanted to be taught by someone who actually knows this stuff."

"And you could've done it, if Quirrell hadn't gotten the job first," Ron added.

The real reason Harry and Ron wanted these lessons was because they actually were going to be dueling someone, but they weren't going to tell Sirius that. Even though he was Harry's godfather, and someone who hated the challenger's entire family, he was still a teacher, and there was no guarantee he would permit them to do such a thing. Harry knew Sirius could magically block him from going places, and he didn't want to be locked in Gryffindor tower all night for his "safety".

Malfoy, enraged that Harry had escaped punishment, had been the one to challenge him to a duel. It was supposed to be in the trophy room at midnight. Harry had asked Hermione to be his second, but she had disapproved, warning him that he would get caught and he would lose points for Gryffindor and he had already broken a school rule today, so did he really want to break another? Harry thought she had a point, but he couldn't back down from Malfoy's challenge, so Ron had agreed to be his second instead—and Hermione would be asleep by midnight anyway. She would never have to know.

"Well, you can't deny that," said Sirius. "But you know…you're right. With teachers like Quirrell, it's not just you two who aren't given proper instruction. It's everyone."

"He's right, you know," said Ron.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "His classes are totally lame."

"How's this?" Sirius smiled and put his hands in his pockets. "I can be your unofficial Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It can be, like, a club or something. Every weekend. We can have classes in the Gryffindor common room, for all Gryffindors who want to attend."

"Haven't you got papers to grade or anything?" Harry asked.

"I hardly ever assign homework because it's less work for me and you lot," Sirius replied. "When I'm not teaching, I haven't got anything to do."

"Well, all right then," said Harry. "But could we have the first lesson today?"

"Fine," said Sirius. "What do you want to know?"

"Offensive and defensive magic!" said Ron. "Quirrell mentioned something about the Curse of the Bogies—you could teach us how to do that."

"Nah, that's just a stupid curse where you give someone a cold," Sirius told him. "Anyway, you might have trouble working some of these because you're only starting out when it comes to magic. How about today I teach you the Impediment Jinx? And then we could practice the Leg-Locker Curse."

"Oh yeah, that one," said Harry. "Hermione used it on Malfoy and his cronies on the train when they had Ron and me in headlocks."

"That just proves my point—you never know when you'll need these skills." Sirius took his wand out of his pocket and rolled up his sleeves. "Now for my first lesson as Unofficial DADA teacher. When somebody is running at you, this jinx causes them to stumble. I need a volunteer."

"I'll do it," said Harry, and he started to run towards Sirius, but Sirius shouted, "Impedimenta!" and it was as if someone had placed an invisible barrier in front of his feet for a minute. That was what happened to Ron, too. They tried it on Sirius, and on each other. At first it didn't work, but after about a half an hour they had made some progress. Since it was 9:30, and curfew was at 10:00, they decided to spend the rest of class practicing the Leg-Locker Curse.

Harry seemed to have a special knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He did get Ron more times than Ron got him. But then, Ron probably wouldn't have to take over for Harry in the duel with Malfoy tonight.

When it was finally 10:00, Sirius wrote them a teacher's note in case they were caught on their way back to Gryffindor tower, and then quickly scrawled out a note.

"What's that for?" Ron asked.

"Pin it up on the Gryffindor notice board," Sirius explained. "It's about my Defense classes thing. We'll see if anybody else is interested."

…

"Half-past eleven," said Ron. "We'd better go."

They were in their dorm room, and they had been waiting until midnight. Harry had told Hermione he wouldn't rise to Malfoy's bait, but she would be in the girls' dorms while they were having the duel, and the next morning, Harry could just pretend nothing had ever happened. So he and Ron put on their bathrobes and headed downstairs. The common room was still and silent, but just as they reached the portrait hole—

"So you are going to go!"

Harry's stomach jumped, and so did he. Hermione had stayed up, waiting for them. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and holding a lantern.

"Hermione!" said Harry in shock.

"I should have told Sirius." Hermione frowned. "He wouldn't have let you do this."

Ron scowled at her. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

"Because it's dangerous!" Hermione insisted, looking Harry directly in the eyes. "You'll get caught for sure!"

"This is my chance to beat him!" Harry told her, and Ron started walking again. Harry followed him, and so did Hermione.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor?" she hissed. "Do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"It'll be great to wipe that sneer off Malfoy's face, won't it?" said Ron excitedly.

"Malfoy will be the one sneering when you're on the train ride home tomorrow!" said Hermione, as the portrait slammed shut behind the three of them.

"Look, if you're not going to help, just go back to bed!" Ron snapped at her.

"Maybe I will!" said Hermione, but when she turned around, it was too late—the Fat Lady had left her frame, and the three of them were shut out. Hermione's expression of annoyance soon turned to panic. "Now what am I going to do?"

"Well, Hermione, really…" Harry shrugged. "We are best friends, aren't we? You're welcome to come along. When Malfoy sees you, he'll be running scared. We might not even have to duel."

"Maybe he'll remember what you did on the train!" Ron added, brightening a little.

"I suppose you could use my help," said Hermione, looking nervous. "Still, if we're caught up after curfew—"

"Shh!" Harry held up a hand to quiet her. "I heard something."

"Mrs. Norris?" said Ron.

"No, it's Neville." Hermione pointed downwards. Neville was asleep on the ground next to the portrait hole, but he woke up when he saw the trio approaching.

"Thank goodness you found me!" Neville gasped. "I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," Hermione told him. "The password's 'pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"Fine." Neville held out his arm. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good," said Harry. "Well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" Neville cried, springing up. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

"We're going to meet Malfoy for a duel," Harry told him. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Well…I could watch you," said Neville, looking afraid.

"Just don't get us caught," Harry told him, then set off, the other three following. They found a staircase to the third floor, then crept towards the trophy room. Harry kept reminding himself of what Sirius had taught him and Ron in their lesson. Malfoy and Crabbe (his second) weren't there yet. Several minutes passed.

"He's late," said Ron. "Maybe he's chickened out."

And that was when they heard Filch, talking to his cat, Mrs. Norris.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Harry beckoned for the others to follow him, and they fled the trophy room just as Filch came in.

"They're in here somewhere," he muttered, "probably hiding."

The four students tiptoed down the hall, passing many suits of armor. Filch was getting nearer and nearer—then Neville panicked and ran, but of course he tripped and grabbed Ron around the waist to catch his fall, and they both crashed into a suit of armor.

"RUN!" Harry shouted. They did, past all the suits of armor, down corridor after corridor. Harry tore through a tapestry, which led into a hidden passageway, and when they had ran all along it, they saw that they were somewhere near their Charms classroom—nowhere near the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him." Harry was gasping for breath, leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing.

"I—told—you." Hermione was clutching a stitch in her chest. "I—told—you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower, as quickly as possible," Ron told them all.

"Malfoy tricked you, Harry," said Hermione. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"You're probably right," Harry told her, feeling a little embarrassed. "Let's go."

Unfortunately, that was when they met Peeves, who betrayed their location all over again. They took off running once more, Filch on their tail, but then they found themselves at a dead end, right in front of a locked door. Filch's footsteps were getting nearer and nearer.

"This is it!" Ron pushed at the door, but it wouldn't open. "We're done for! This is the end!"

"Not quite!" Hermione tapped the lock on the door. "Alohamora!"

The door opened immediately. They hurried in, slammed the door, and listened to what was going on outside. Filch was trying to get answers out of Peeves, but Peeves wasn't being cooperative. Filch and Peeves both soon left.

"Filch thinks this door is locked," Harry told the others. "I think we'll be okay—get off, Neville! What?"

Neville had been pulling on Harry's bathrobe sleeve for a full minute now, so Harry turned around and realized that they weren't in a room—they were in the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor. And now Dumbledore's warning about dying a painful death made more sense—well, as much sense as a statement like that could ever make in a school. There was a massive, deadly three-headed dog there, and the only reason it hadn't killed them was because their appearance was unexpected. The dog started to growl.

SLAM! Harry grabbed the doorknob, shut the door behind them and they all sprinted away from the dog, not even thinking about Filch anymore. They didn't even stop to rest until they reached the Gryffindor portrait hole on the seventh floor. They gave the Fat Lady the password, entered, and collapsed into armchairs.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" asked Ron. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"It was standing on a trapdoor," Hermione told them, sounding annoyed beyond belief. "It's obviously there to guard something."

"Guarding something…?" Harry thought for a moment and then it came to him. "Hey—I think I found out where Hagrid hid that You-Know-What from Vault 713! Wait till we tell Sirius, Hermione! Her…Hermione?"

Harry turned around slowly in his armchair. Hermione was standing up, her arms crossed. The expression on her face suddenly reminded him of Professor McGonagall.

"You and your little duel could have gotten us all killed, Harry," she said quietly, her tone dangerous. "Or worse, expelled."

"Wait a minute," said Ron, "I'd take expulsion over—"

"Let me finish!" Hermione snapped at him. "I can't believe you two! First you foolishly take Malfoy's bait, then you lie to me about it, then you convince me to come along and then we end up in the Forbidden Corridor with that horrible monster that could have eaten us all! I thought we were best friends, Harry!"

"We—we are best friends!" Harry's heart was thumping wildly.

"Well maybe you should start acting like it!" Hermione snarled. "Is that how you treat a friend?!"

"Hey, he didn't do it on purpose, you know!" Ron told her angrily.

"Nevertheless, if it weren't for you two and your rule-breaking, this wouldn't have possibly been our last day on Earth!" Hermione said back. "I-I'm just sick of it! Harry—when you start caring about Gryffindor, when you start caring about the rules, when you start caring about me—then we'll talk."

Without another word, Hermione turned and headed furiously up to the girls' dorms.

"Wow," Neville squeaked. "She could give my gran a run for her money."

Harry simply stared after her, unable to think of a single thing to say.