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September 2, 1975. Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at Hogwarts.
..
When Professor Henry Peverell, who last night had been introduced in the Great Hall as the new Slytherin Deputy Head of House, made appearance, opening the door to the fifth-year Defence classroom, the students of all four Houses slowly began to stir and mutter.
...Didn't he say he was a Potions professor? No, I heard he was a Battlemage! Yeah, he has the face of a soldier or an Auror, so he must be the DADA professor this year. Suppose Dumbledore twisted the Head Auror's arm and he sent his youngest auror in the department as a scapegoat? Wow, he's got a foreign vibe to him, I wonder if they scouted abroad because they ran out of British dupes? Oooh, no matter what happens to him at the end of the school year I don't want that face to be ruined; such green, handsome eyes! Oh, please, do your fangirling out of class at least!
Peverell flicked his wand lightly. A soft light shone throughout the classroom, and each student felt a sharp drop of icy water on the top of their heads.
Without needing to be told in words, the class fell silent in unison. The professor smiled lightly.
"I apologize for betraying your expectations, but I am only a substitute. Your new professor of Defense, Professor Fowler, has been delayed for a couple of weeks due to personal reasons, and I've been delegated due to my title of battlemage... actually, for being guilty of being the youngest professor. So, I'm taking over your defense classes for the first two weeks of term. Professor Henry Peverell. Pleased to meet you."
There was a murmur of understanding, welcome, and mild disappointment. The professor continued.
"Since I have my original classes, I will teach Defense as an all-House class for the next two weeks. With a total of 160 students in the fifth year, it may seem a bit overcrowded, but large classes have their own perks."
Seeing the professor's uncharacteristic ease with the class, the students fell silent and began to engage on him. The professor, who was in his mid-twenties at the most, didn't show any signs of awkwardness or shyness.
He emphasized the importance of the OWL exam at the end of the school year (the students groaned) and briefly covered the materials that would surely appear on the OWL in the course of study for the first through fifth years of defense courses. (At this point, the students started scribbling.) It was pretty much a run-through of a set of important spells and key words, but some good students could tell that Peverell was highlighting all the essentials in the textbooks.
Before they knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and the professor had stopped his lecture for a moment. Lily took a break from writing and stroked her throbbing wrist. Some of the concepts Professor Peverell had pointed out hadn't been taught in any of her defense courses. She let out a long breath, knowing she'd look them up in the library as soon as the lecture was over. Peverell glanced around the room.
"Well, that's all we need to cover before OWL. That said... looking at past course records, Hogwarts Defense course had been taught by a number of professors who... Well, I mean to say, it seems to be a tradition that there is quite a bit of... individuality and variation in this subject."
A soft chuckle spread among the students. In essence, he was saying the subject was like a roller coaster or a jigsaw puzzle of bullshit because of the frequent changes of teachers. Peverell nodded, having spun it prettily.
"So, two weeks of my style of teaching will only confuse you when Professor Fowler comes, and I don't want him to later pester me for my individual take on Defense curricula."
Lily unconsciously puffed up her cheeks.
"Is it two weeks of self-study then?"
A very excited, bubbly voice full of mischief came from the other side of the room. Lily stifled a groan that nearly escaped her lips and glared at the source of that familiar voice.
Yeah, it was a wonder he had been quiet for the last twenty minutes. James Potter, having a withdrawal bouts from inadequate intake of attention, smirked at Professor Peverell, enjoying the momentary spotlight on him.
It was a pretty rude interruption on the part of the student (McGonagall would have surely deducted points for disruption), but Peverell didn't flinch an eye. Instead, a wry, Potter-like grin spread across his face.
"Self-study, whoa! Two weeks of self-study!"
"Not likely."
"Awwww-!"
"We're not going to go over the curriculum, but there's something outside the book that's essential for defense; and it doesn't matter if the professors have different perspectives. I daresay it'll also be useful for OWL. It's called..."
"..."
"...A Dueling lesson. Ah, Mr. Potter, but you can do your self-study."
"...Uh, Professor...?"
"Self-study for two weeks."
"...!%$^^!"
Potter's voice was unnaturally muffled (by unknown hands) as he tried to rant, and Peverell, deliberately breaking eye contact with him, picked out several students straight from the front of the class.
"You, you, you, and you. Come forward. Take your wands."
Four students, each with a different color tie, awkwardly scrambled to their feet.
With a flick of his wand, the floor of the classroom began to move slowly, turning into a semicircle of steps. As the 160 students murmured, the lectern lowered to form a small scale stadium, a stage at the center.
Turning to the four students who stiffly stepped up to the dueling platform, Professor Peverell spoke.
"We'll save the etiquette of dueling for later. For now, let's start with some light offense and defense skills. Do any of you have a dueling spell you're confident in?"
The four students looked at each other and said nothing. The professor nodded without a hint of disappointment.
"No need to be embarrassed. Like many other subjects, Dueling is all about practice and mastery, and you could just start with the basics."
With a wave of his wand, a list appeared on the blackboard at the front of the room.
"This is a list of the fifteen most common offensive spells used in legitimate magical duels in Britain. I want you to pick three spells from here that you feel confident in and attack me with it. You will have a total of three chances of attack. There will be no compound counterattacks, so if a spell comes for you, simply block it with basic Protego or dodge them at range."
With a list comprised of more than half a dozen familiar hexes in front of them- Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Impedimenta, and such - the students, feeling a little more confident, exchanged glances with each other and settled on the order among them.
Professor Peverell smiled as he watched four students line up beside the stage. It was a very mischievous, cool smile which made even Lily's diligent note-taking hand pause for a moment.
"What are you doing, forming a line? It's a four on one, of course. Come all at once."
"Whoa..."
From the front row of the classroom, momentary sighs from several female students could be heard distinctly.
...
With a cheerful "Go!" from the professor, the dueling lesson got underway.
Spells poured from the wands of the four students, either simultaneously or a second or two apart.
"Diffindo!", "Stupefy!", "Incendio!", "Immobulus!"
"Protego! Oh, excellent... Ventus Levite! The last one is not for humans!"
It was like a little dance. Four simultaneous fights underway, but the man's spell pronunciation against the four was clear as a bell. His movements were short and quick, with visible strides.
Random spells flew, which the professor parried with a flick of his wand, and counterattacks that came back with time to spare, which the students somehow managed to hit or dodge. Those who were not neutralized were able to strike again, and again, a total of three attacks.
When only two students remained standing who had dodged or parried the increasingly fast counterattacks from the professor with defensive spells, Professor Peverell ended the duel and awarded them three points each.
The two students who had survived the duel walked off the dais, their backs sweating and shaking, smiling broadly at the professor's praise for a duel well done. Less than five minutes had passed.
The dueling exercise was over, and the 160 students surrounding the stage let out a long breath they had been holding. Most of them had seen a (self-proclaimed) duel or two between students, but few had ever experienced an adult wizard so skillfully handling them in a duel, in an official dueling format, and in a multiplayer setting... and it was a duel by a precious battlemage!
Before they could process what they had seen in their minds, Professor Peverell once again randomly selected four students to begin dueling practice.
The dueling class continued at a brisk pace. The student to successfully complete three attacks was awarded three points and walked off the platform with a proud smile on his or her face, while some students were relieved by the sight of the incapacitated students scratching his or her head embarrassedly but without pain.
By the end of the fifth dueling exercise, the points earned in the duel were tallied and written in the corner of the board by houses; and the students, now relaxed, began to cheer on their housemates who now took the stage in earnest.
After a few more rounds of duels, the students selected were now exchanging pre-fight chit-chat and even beginning to demonstrate rudimentary joint tactics against the professor. Peverell's eyes widened, letting out an exclamation of "oh!", and at the end of the duel, in addition to the usual three points, he awarded all four of them one extra point each for "excellent joint attack".
Twelve rounds of duelling practice had passed, and the class was nearing the end. Professor Peverell had been battling with his students for nearly an hour, and he hardly seemed to be out of breath. The students were almost sad to see the class come to an end, as he seemed to have no problem dealing with another fifty students, if only they had time.
Peverell will be teaching for the next two weeks, so those who weren't selected this time will have another chance in the next defense class, but patience is not one of the traits of teenagers.
With about 10 minutes to go until the bell rings, a booming voice came from a corner of the room.
"Are you also accepting volunteers for demonstration, Professor?"
Ugh, not again!
Lily chewed her tongue. Of course it was Potter, hit by the second attack of attention-deficiency.
The corners of Professor Peverell's mouth twitched slightly.
"Weren't you self-studying hard, Mr. Potter?"
"Oh, please, pretty please, sir? I know you're frustrated with the level of students you're instructing!"
"You're welcome to duel to your heart's content with us. We'll be happy to match with you, Professor!"
'Gee, Black, of course. Here comes Potter's soulmate,' Lily muttered to herself.
Sitting in the front row corner of the classroom, a few seats away from the scowling Lily, Severus' face was set in complete expressionlessness in contrast to hers.
Professor Peverell raised his eyebrows slightly. His brow was narrowed, his lips pressed together, but his dark green eyes glowed deeply.
Severus could see it. Despite the tightly set brow, those green eyes held a cautious curiosity and affection. For Potter and Black, the two worst members of the gang.
Oh, yes. A familiar situation. Most people at Hogwarts had a favorable opinion of Potter and Black, the heirs to an old House, who broke rules like it's nobody's business. And while that bastard Black was sometimes looked upon with certain distaste by those who cringed upon mere mention of his family name, to James fucking Potter, most people, students and professors alike, showed favor by default.
Most of the professors just sighed and laughed off Potter's minor infractions of the rules, and even when he got into large-scale troubles and received a big point deduction, his point tally was usually restored within a week for "very good classroom performance." Conversely, Potter's classroom performance, no matter how minor, was rarely overlooked, and his marks were recorded with praise.
Of all the professors, it was the Gryffindor Head of House, McGonagall, who was the toughest on Potter and Black, handing out punishments and point deductions without hesitation, and whom Severus had admired secretly from his Slytherin roommates. However, in his second year, Severus had witnessed McGonagall watching Potter with a warm smile on her face, from a vantage point where no one else could see her, as that jerk did tap dancing on the Gryffindor table just before dinnertime, and he had barely paid attention in Transfiguration after that. It was stupid, but ever since, Severus hadn't been able to get interested about Transfiguration, especially when he realized it was Potter's specialty.
Thus, in the end, Peverell will be the same.
"...Okay, just this once. I'll accept volunteers."
"Yay! Siri, Remy, and Pete, come out here!"
Yeah, I knew it.
There was a whoop and a holler, and soon four boys in red ties made their way to the stage.
Up until now, Peverell had mixed up the dueling participants from at least three different houses; clearly it wasn't fair to have four friends from the same house who knew each other well, but as Severus had expected, Peverell didn't say anything about it.
"We're going to do a fantastic joint attack, professor!"
"Ah, professor. That spells list on the board is a bit boring, you don't mind if I use something else, do you?"
Peverell smirked and replied, "of course not." The four grinned broadly and surrounded the professor in a diamond formation from all sides.
"Well, before we begin, sir, a salute-"
Unexpectedly, it was lowly Pettigrew who faced the professor head-on. He exaggeratedly bowed deeply at the waist. The next moment, the wands of the other three students silently burst with red and blue light.
'A nonverbal hex?' Severus' eyes widened. He was sure neither Potter nor Black had been able to cast an nonverbal spell until their fourth year.
'A nonverbal hex, now those bastards could attack me from behind as I walk down the hallway and I won't even have time to dodge!'
The rest of his life at Hogwarts was going to be bleak as hell.
The professor smiled a much different smile from before and swung his wand to block the attack. Almost simultaneously, Potter launched a second attack, leaving the defense to Black. 'Deprimo-' Severus sighed as he watched their lips move.
Thankfully, not a complete nonverbal magic. Both Potter and Black, the more threatening of the four, were only mimicking the wordless spell, whispering under their breaths.
It was obvious that the four of them had been practicing their coordinated moves, as a gang. A bad news for Severus, who was their frequent punching bag.
Peverell's movements in defense, however, were remarkably calm. Against the unspoken hex, Peverell fought back, pronouncing the spells clearly as he had before. The flow of his wand's movements were precise and graceful.
The four-on-one duel moved like a choreography for a moment, as if woven together. And then.
"Defend... one, two... three. Expelliarmus Libero!"
The professor's wand flicked like a fishing rod one moment, and the next, the four students' wands floated up and out of their masters' hands, floating to his side.
"Uh... Uh!"
Uncharacteristically for victims of a disarming spell, the four students remained standing. Their jaws dropped as they stared blankly at their wandless hands.
The classroom was silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers, laughter, and applause.
"...Wow..."
"...No way..."
"One more try, just one more duel, please!"
The cry overwhelmed the entire classroom. It was James Potter's voice.
They, Marauders, were confident of taking on any adult wizards. Potter was certain that they could take on even a battlemage four to one and kick his ass if they had to. And this is the result?
When the professor had first accepted his challenge, James had clearly seen the fondness in his eyes for James himself, so the boy had expected him to give them a proper duel, unlike the way he'd dealt with other miscellaneous kids. Thus James attacked as hard as he could, utilizing all his skills, envisioning them winning a close fight after a great dueling demonstration in front of the class.
Only three rounds of attacks and defenses. That makes them no different than any other miscellaneous groups!
Peverell's green eyes sharpened slightly. His calm expression remained unchanged, and the four wands floating beside the professor returned to their respective owners. James grinned broadly and took up his wand. Of course!
And then.
"Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. I have granted you four several exceptions already. It would be grossly unfair to the other students to give you one more chance here. Now you're dismissed."
"...?"
James was genuinely baffled. Unfair? He's telling me to leave? What the hell is he up to?
He couldn't understand why Peverell was treating him like this. Maybe this guy was showing his true colors as he was Slytherin Deputy Head? But he was from outside, and wasn't even a 'real' Slytherin. Besides, even Slughorn, the actual Head of Slytherin, didn't give him such petty treatments.
He glanced at the professor, wondering if he was serious, but his green, calm eyes never wavered.
The boy sighed heavily. If James Potter himself had ever known the secret to being the biggest troublemaker at Hogwarts and yet being so favored by the professors, it was to know when to be cheeky and when not to cross the line, and James's instincts were telling him it was time to back off.
Pouting his lips, James descended the dueling platform with his friends.
He was annoyed; and it was not because he didn't get a special treatment.
It was weird to feel this way to a new professor, but James felt an odd sort of connection with him right away. Last night, when he heard that the new professor was a dual master at the age of twenty-something, he even felt a weird pride. He was excited to tell his friends that they might have a special relationship, as Potters had once a blood kinship with a Peverell.
And now the professor was so dismissive of him. He was genuinely disappointed.
Thus, as he stepped off the stage, full of disappointment and frustration, what he did was not completely intentional.
Ready to explode if anyone dare even touched him, it was more of an unconscious reflex as he shot a non-verbal hex, at the Slytherin prick who was sitting in the corner of the front row, giving him dirty coal eyes and sneering at him.
"Ugh!" groaned Snivelly, and James felt a little better. He returned to his seat, only to have the back of his robe yanked up by an invisible force the next moment.
...