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Harry felt restless as he waited for class to start. The new professor decided to keep them waiting, predictably. The new ones always seemed to want to make an impression with how they entered the first class.

Harry had always wondered why that mattered. Any simpleton would have seen the history behind the Defense position and how rare it was for anyone to have a multiple-year stint.

More than Umbridge's theatrics, Harry was more surprised that the Slytherins were paired with Hufflepuffs this year. Defense and Potions had always been subjects that allowed Gryffindors and Slytherins to show how much they hated each other.

… Maybe that was an exaggeration since only a few students in each House pushed that hatred, but it always made for a good show. Harry was a little disappointed he'll miss that this year.

At least Harry knew the Hufflepuffs didn't like the new situation either, with the way most were shifting uneasily in their seats. It was always better when others joined him in disappointment.

"Good morning, students," A high-pitched voice announced Umbridge's presence.

Harry followed his classmates' actions and turned around to see Umbridge wearing a pink cardigan and a sickly sweet smile that made Harry want to blast it off her face. It was an insult of a smile that shouldn't exist.

Umbridge should have practiced smiling in the mirror like Harry did for hours on end. It was an art that took time to master, and Umbridge's use of it was an insult to Harry's hard work.

"I do hope that this class is not as unruly as my previous one."

Harry wondered what happened with the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws. If he were a betting wizard, which he was, Harry would have guessed that the former had done something to earn Umbridge's ire.

"There were some rather disturbing opinions that some students insisted on believing," Umbridge shuddered as if she remembered a horror, "I am beyond thankful that the Ministry had the foresight to see this."

Harry had to stop his eyebrow from rising in question when Umbridge stared right at him for a few seconds before looking away. It was like she was implying that Harry was one of those students. At least, that's what he suspected since she was possibly the reason Malfoy was so bold.

"Now, I have a treat that I'm sure you will all appreciate," Umbridge flicked her wand, making the books stacks on top of her desk float before landing in front of every student. "I have seen some of the past teachers that this class had, and I, and the Ministry, am deeply sorry for the substandard level of learning you've had."

Harry stared at the book's cover, wondering why it looked like a child had drawn it.

"In order to fix your understanding of the true way to defend yourself, the Ministry had carefully structured the syllabus. Go ahead and take a quick look."

Harry skimmed through the titles of every chapter and had trouble keeping his expression normal. This was more of a parody than an actual textbook. In fact, Harry suspected it was written for wizards and witches with little to no magical power. Most of the text seemed to suggest that it was best to depend on authority figures to solve their problems.

Perhaps it was meant for lower-level institutions. After all, not everyone could attend Hogwarts.

"Um, professor?"

"Questions already?" Umbridge zeroed in on the Hufflepuff that spoke up, "Very well. What is it?"

"The book doesn't seem to have most of the spells tested in the OWLS."

Umbridge stared at the Hufflepuff with her sickly sweet smile for long enough to make the student uncomfortable. "That wasn't a question, dear. Did you have one for me?"

With the way the Hufflepuff shrunk into the seat, it was evident that no question would come.

"Very well! You will spend the rest of class reading the first chapter! If any of you have questions, please raise your hand."

Harry flipped to the first page while noting that Malfoy seemed to be in a highly studious mood today. He knew that Malfoy was a capable student, but it was hard to believe that much concentration was needed for a book telling you to yell for help when in danger.

Well, Harry was being a little unfair. In great detail, the textbook explained beginner-level curses and how to identify them so they could tell the Aurors when they arrived. Nonetheless, Harry would pull a Granger and be an excellent little teacher's pet.

With his mind busy forming possible revamped secrecy clauses and occasionally thinking about the boy that Lovegood said borrowed her shoes, Harry quickly passed the time while occasionally flipping a page.

As much as Harry would love to fix Lovegood's issue immediately, only one more deal was possible today. Goldstein had taken up the first, and the second was reserved for Zabini.

Harry could use brute force to make the boy, Alexander Ashwood, do his bidding, but since when was such a barbaric method worth using? There were too many ways it could backfire. No, it required a gentlewizard's handshake reinforced by a well-thought-out contract.

So the earliest Harry could help Lovegood would be tomorrow, which he felt was quite generous since he wasn't charging her anything… nor did she know he would do this. At least, Harry thought she didn't. He still couldn't understand how Lovegood's mind worked.

"Look how time flies when you're having fun," Umbridge's high-pitched voice pulled Harry from his thoughts, "Hurry along to your next class."

Harry stood up and slowly packed the new, and useless, book into his bag. He ignored the discontent murmurs about the class around him and waited until the last student left to talk to Umbridge.

"Professor?"

"Mr. Potter? Did you have any comments about my class?"

If the long look Umbridge gave him during class didn't convince Harry that she had a negative perception of him, this sentence certainly would.

"Yes," Harry smiled as Umbridge puffed up as if to berate him, "I thought it was wonderful. I don't think I could tell you how often I wished there was someone here that could truly teach us."

"Oh," Umbridge deflated, looking confused at Harry's excitement, "That comes as a surprise, Mr. Potter. I was told, by an upstanding student, that you are quite the troublemaker."

"Me?" Harry pointed at himself, "A troublemaker? That couldn't be further from the truth, professor!"

"Yes, I did find it strange that I couldn't find any instances where you've lost house points," Umbridge muttered, almost as if she was talking to herself.

"I wouldn't do anything to lower my chances to work in the Fudge administration, professor. This is a little embarrassing, but that was actually why I wanted to talk to you today. You were the undersecretary for years! You must know the ins and outs of how everything works!"

This was where Harry's hard work with mastering a perfect smile came into play. No matter how awful a person might be, a gratuitous compliment followed up by what looked like a sincere smile full of admiration would move almost anybody's heart.

"Minister Fudge is always looking for talents. We plan on recruiting a select group of individuals of the right standing this year, and I'll keep an eye on you, Mr. Potter. Impress me, and maybe you might make the cut."

"Really?!" Harry's eyes lit up, "Thank you so much, professor! You've made my day! No, year!"

"The Ministry always looks out for the best and brightest, Mr. Potter," Umbridge tittered at his excitement, "It's up to you to prove that you are up to the task."

"Now, off you go. I wouldn't want to make you tardy for your next class."

Harry thanked Umbridge one last time before exiting the room. He kept that smile on his face until he was several hallways from the Defense classroom.

Only then did the smile drop off as Harry thought over the conversation. That upstanding student was assuredly Malfoy, and hearing that he complained about Harry to Umbridge was of no surprise. However, that couldn't be the only thing that made Malfoy so cocky. All that had caused was an initial dislike in Umbridge that Harry had already reversed.

Unless Harry was simply overthinking everything and Malfoy was drunk on the confidence of the Dark Lord's return, which was a possibility.

"Harry!"

Harry stopped, surprised to hear his name being called until he saw it was Longbottom. Looking at the uncharacteristically angry look on his face, Harry assumed this must be about what he had said to Granger yesterday.

"Hello, Longbottom. Looking rather flustered there. Are you feeling alright?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know what you did!"

"What I did?" Harry repeated obliviously, wondering if Granger actually found the courage to tell Longbottom, "I was walking to my next class before you accosted me."

"I know what you said to Hermione. She can't even look at me anymore!"

"Well, you were rather defensive yesterday when I asked about her. I told you that there are some blokes interested in her. I had to find out for sure if you two were seeing each other."

When Longbottom's face turned a frightening red, Harry added one more needle, "And I wanted to see what would happen if I told Granger that you stared after her."

"… You're an arse, Harry."

"Well, that's rude," Harry sniffed. This was where he would usually go his merry way, but Harry was grateful that Longbottom appeared before him to lift his mood, so he threw him a bone, "If it helps, Granger didn't look disgusted."

Longbottom stared at Harry like a dunce, probably wondering how that was helpful to him.

"Longbottom, I'm telling you that Granger didn't seem completely repulsed at the idea of you and her together," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, "Honestly, you should thank me for being so kind. If I didn't do this, Granger would have probably been dating someone else."

"Oh."

Harry rolled his eyes again, something he found himself often doing when around Longbottom. Without Granger helping him, Harry was sure Longbottom wouldn't even be able to dress himself with the level of intellect he usually showed. Harry supposed he was also doing the wizarding world a favor by keeping the boy-who-lived looking competent.

"So you did all this to help me?"

Harry tilted his head, wondering if he gave off an altruistic air. However, he could see why Longbottom got to that conclusion. It was a mere side effect to his primary goal of needling Longbottom. Still, Harry never denied the credit that was given to him, even if it was undeserved.

"Perhaps," Harry said vaguely, "I suppose it depends on what you do now."

Harry was thinking about how else he could mess with Longbottom when he got a fist shoved right in front of his face. "What's this?"

"I didn't know you were trying to help. It might not work, but I get that you were trying to be nice in your own way."

That didn't tell Harry why there was a clenched fist in his face until he saw something glint between the gaps of Longbottom's fingers.

"Is that gold?"

"Uh, yeah. You only help if you get paid, right?"

Harry wordlessly reached with a hand to take the galleons that Longbottom was offering him. He didn't bother to glance at them since he already knew it was ten galleons.

"Thanks, Harry. And could you tell me when you're trying to help next time? I'd like to get some say."

Harry watched Longbottom walk away and wondered if he had just been insulted. He looked at his palm to see the galleons taunting him, as if they were declaring that Longbottom's last act completely negated what Harry tried to do.

If Harry had made a deal with Longbottom recently, that would be the takeaway, but he hadn't. The last time he had business with Longbottom was in his second year. It was before the contracts, before the massive increases in prices, and before Harry knew his own worth.

The most Harry charged in his second year was ten galleons, which was to Longbottom. Specifically to find out more about the voices Longbottom heard in the hallways. Harry considered himself lucky the basilisk hadn't killed him with how foolhardy he had been.

That was beside the point. What happened back then explained the ten galleons Longbottom had given him since the Gryffindor probably thought that was still the rate.

Harry felt the urge to run after Longbottom and tell him to keep this between them. If it got out that he had given Longbottom, of all people, a near ninety percent discount, his other clients would riot.

This was why Harry was constantly frustrated by Longbottom and tried to gain the upper hand. Not because he was a Gryffindor and not because Harry was envious that he had walked into danger multiple times and escaped unharmed. But because he had the infuriating ability to make everything favor him without meaning to.

How was Harry supposed to deal with that? If it was intentional, he could at least console himself that a worthy opponent bested him. However, Longbottom didn't even come close to qualifying.

"Well, that didn't work," Harry muttered as he clenched the galleons, "Longbottom did it again."

Harry had half a mind to throw the galleons out of spite, but gold was gold, and it didn't matter how he got it. He slipped them into his space-expanded pouch and made his way to Sprout's class.

He hoped that this wouldn't become a habit. So far, everything that Harry considered a win was immediately followed up by a loss. Of course, getting on Umbridge's good side far outweighed his failure with Longbottom. Still, it didn't feel like it to Harry.

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