Ploys at play or Of psychotic nutcases

Harry stood stock-still for at least five minutes. Giving his Occlumency some leeway, it was hard not to panic as he realised that Nott had not a single strand of magic in his whole body. Harry looked around. His trunk glowed ominously, and the others in the room had their very own specific sets of colourful layers around them. Only Nott was completely bare of any personal magic. Swallowing hard, Harry directed his wand towards the other beds and felt several whirling cloches of pure magic leave the tip of his wand, smothering his roommates. He tried to ignore the content purring of his wand as he once more concentrated on his Occlumency and began to think as hard as he could.

Finally, he sighed.

'Cranky!'

As if he had been awaiting the order, the small elf apparated onto his bed before he had even finished calling his name. Cranky looked most eager and hastily surveyed the room to anticipate Harry's needs, eventually spotting the crumpled figure of Nott and raising an eyebrow.

'Cranky sees Master Harry has been busy. Should Cranky dispose of this?' He seemed completely serious, indicating the body of his classmate.

'Please don't joke about that, Cranky! This is serious.'

'Maybe Cranky should finish off the others for a clean sweep, then?'

Harry winced. He knew this was the old creature's way of playing with him, but it had been a very long day. This was completely beyond him.

'Cranky, I really need your help, please!'

The elf nodded and jumped from the bed. Then he slowly strode towards Harry's erstwhile dormmate without even a hint of worry in his demeanour. Harry relaxed a bit. He'd never seen the elf panic in any way, and never had he failed to get him out of trouble. This was certainly the most trouble he had ever been in, of course, but there was still hope...maybe. Slowly, he came to realise that Nott was really dead, and he comprehended what this could spell for him. Oh shit!

Harry tried to calm himself and sat down. With all his might, he focused on the calmness of his mind; right now, neither guilt, panic nor explosive impressions of stray magic would help him solve this disaster.

Cranky, meanwhile, bent over the small body with a thoughtful expression. Next, he inspected Harry's trunk, frowning suddenly. 'Master Harry has not changed the warding design of his trunk in the last hours, has he?'

Harry was perplexed by this question. It would take even him half a day to completely unravel all the wards that were interwoven on his trunk. 'No, of course not. I've had quite enough on my mind; this day has been absolutely horrible! Has someone messed with them?'

'Not exactly, Master Harry. But the trunk bears traces of compulsion magic, as does this boy. Cranky is sure that someone used Master Harry's trunk as a kind of death trap to get rid of that repulsive boy. Normally, Master Harry's wards would try to repel any wizard foolish enough to pry with strong suggestions and mild pain to the mind, yet this one was forced to try again and again and again.'

Harry was flabbergasted. Someone had used his protections to do their dirty work? He would have been impressed if he didn't feel the tightness around his chest worsening.

Cranky glanced into his eyes and probably saw that he wasn't in the best of conditions right now. 'Master Harry will have to act, and soon. The evidence is fading fast and will be gone within the hour.'

Harry nodded. It was difficult to settle on whoever could get him out of this. Students would not do, and house elves were hardly 'people' in the public's eyes. He knew whom not to trust, but it was difficult to state one person of staff he could show even a modicum of confidence. He sighed, but there really was no choice.

'Cranky, go to Professor, eh, Hammerconk. He's the potions master here. Wake him, and take him with you to the common room. If he refuses, drag him along anyway, but do not tell him anything except that there has been some kind of accident.'

The elf nodded and popped away. Harry would have to be fast as he could be sure Cranky was more than that. He had decided to play it safe and not lead the professor directly into the dorm. That way, he would have a few minutes to try to explain as much as he could.

As he flew down the stair, he could already hear muffled shouting.

'Unhand me at once, elf. I command you! How dare you do this? If this is some kind of joke, there will be the direst of consequences...'

As soon as Harry appeared on the landing, the Potions Master and Head of House swirled around frighteningly fast and pointed his wand at him, a fierce glow of silver already visible at the tip. The green shadows of the common room basked the professor's face in a dangerous light, and it was easy to see just how close this man was to letting his spell go.

'Mr Black!' he spat, not lowering his wand. 'You have three seconds before I send you to sleep on the cold floor for the rest of the night.' He sounded quite serious.

Three seconds were a bit less than what Harry had hoped for, so he blurted out the first thing on his mind.

'Nott is dead.'

That seemed to get the man's complete attention, at last. He didn't lower his wand, but his cold face grew even icier still in a plain attempt to suppress his emotions.

'Explain yourself!'

Harry did not see any way to ease the trouble he was in other than by sticking to a bit of truth, and so he carefully walked to a seat by the fire and closed his eyes in concentration before finally speaking some well-chosen words.

'I was out of bounds for the night. Once I returned not fifteen minutes ago, I found him lying before my trunk. As I am aware of the protective enchantments placed on them, I suspect someone may have forced him to try to overwhelm them by brute force. I would appreciate it if you yourself could have a look, Professor.'

The man had a calculating look in his eyes, but abruptly turned towards the dormitories in a matter of seconds. Harry shrunk back and tried to relax as best he could. The fire crackled merrily, but it all seemed so wrong. How can one day turn so bad? Sweet Morgana, I hope I don't have to endure seven years like this.

He had not closed his eyes for long when he heard the voice of his Head of House call him from the bottom of the stairs. 'Mr Black, you can rest later. I had a first look, but I have questions. Follow me, now!'

And so–barely half-awake–Harry trotted up the steps again. He heard the old elf following him and was glad for that. The professor indicated that he should take a seat on his bed, and so he did, quite thankful for the opportunity to relieve his legs.

'It wasn't me! I swear, Professor!' he muttered piteously.

'Keep your wits about you. I know for a fact that it wasn't you who did this. I have evaluated the circumstances, and your suspicions seem to be correct. The situation will nevertheless spiral out of control if we do not take certain measures at once and before I inform the Headmaster. You will do as I say and ask no questions, are we clear?'

Harry nodded. It seemed that the professor was keen to sweep this under the carpet–to the extent his authority allowed him, at least.

'Good. You will now clear your trunk of all contraband or family items and leave only completely inconspicuous items of necessity therein.' He shot Harry a look and added dangerously, 'At once!'

Harry strode towards his trunk and opened it.

'Cranky, take any items of family background to the estate for now. Hide them wherever. You may leave all items of purely aesthetic or practical value that is strictly related to school business.' The old elf nodded and clicked his fingers.

His Head of House seemed agreeable as well and turned towards Harry.

'What happened to your robes?'

Harry started with shock, but tried to answer as well as he could.

'This is my own blood. Madame Pomfrey is aware of the problem. This is part of the reason why I was out at night.' He inspected his sentences and nodded confidently. He could always just lie to the man, but that seemed so clumsy. It seems that I've picked up more from my grandfather than I had initially thought...

The Potions Master flicked his wand and muttered something. Harry's robes began to glow, and shortly thereafter, the man nodded.

'It seems your story is good enough for now, or at least, it is indeed your own blood. Change out of it right now, and have the house-elf destroy it! Even in a cleaned state, it will implicate you of using magic outside of the dormitories, as I doubt your stroll was entirely innocent.'

Harry could not help but look at the man completely dumbfounded, receiving a sneer in return.

'Please, Black. Do you take me for an imbecile? I do accept your story only because it would be much too foolish to play two plots on the same night. You may not be aware, but I know whenever the entrance to the common room opens after hours. Now get on with it!'

Harry turned and changed into another set of robes. With a jolt, he remembered his attempts at magic that night and was thereafter very careful to not show his left arm.

'Cranky, please dispose of this set of robes, and bring me another one the morning after the next.'

The elf nodded again and snapped his fingers.

'Good, now send your elf away and follow me to my office. You will stay there no matter what other members of staff will tell you to do. Not even the headmaster has the authority to overrule me in matters of security for my students. Are we clear?'

'Yes, sir. Thanks, Cranky!'

The old elf bowed, giving Harry a long look of worry. 'Cranky lives to serve the House of Black.' Not a second and one last pop later, the wily creature was gone.

'By the way, are those your charms on Mr Malfoy and company?'

'Eh, yes, sir.'

The man only raised an eyebrow, but did not ask any further questions. 'Good, they will be useful. Keep them in place, but clear your wand by casting at least thirty attempts of spells you should have learned in class this day or used on the train in the correct order of events. Begin once you are in my office.'

The man gestured for Harry to step out of the room and started a strange sweeping motion with his wand that Harry couldn't quite place. He did feel a destructive whirlwind of magic, but as he didn't allow his Occlumency to break down even an iota from his maximum capacity, it was impossible to place the blurred impressions that sprang from the man's wand. It was like static.

Afterwards, he pointed towards the door of the common room, and Harry started walking. He heard the soft muttering of identification spells and other potion related craft behind him and knew the man must be attempting to clear himself of the last spell he had done. Shortly before they arrived at the Potion Master's private office, he was stopped, and a hand on his shoulder turned him around.

'One last thing, Mr Black. If you ever call me "Professor Hammerconk" or teach your servants to do the same once more, you will be very sorry indeed.'

Harry's eyes grew wide, and he tried to keep calm. Oh damn, another one I will have to play nice with.

'Sorry, Professor, I apologise. We have not been introduced yet, as I was in the infirmary last evening...'

'I realise that, and you should be very grateful for it. I am Professor Snape, Black, and I'm very much looking forward to your stay at our school. It promises to be quite eventful, granted you survive the coming years, of course. Now, into the office and not a word to anyone. If McGonagall or the Headmaster ask you what you were doing here, tell them you had detention for skipping classes. No – other – word out of your mouth, understood? If we're lucky, we may even avoid you being questioned by the Aurors.'

~BLHD~

Harry had never been so exhausted in his entire life. The time of unconsciousness in the store room had brought no real comfort; he had almost died from exhaustion at the time, though he had been careful to play it down with Daphne. Damn, my arm still hurts like it's aflame.

As he sat, eyes drooping, in the chair by the fire, casting some random barricading and levitation charms, he tried to think about the events that had happened in the last two days. It all had happened so fast, too much information in too short an amount of time. Others may have thought this an advantage, but usually, it was much easier to differentiate worthwhile from inconsequential information if your days were rather uneventful. But too much had happened during the last thirty hours. That he'd only been paying attention during some of those parts due to his efforts to not pass out all the time didn't help. If any hint that would be necessary to solve this mess had been given to him while he had been otherwise preoccupied with the struggle for his sanity, he was truly lost. Daphne would try to help him, he was sure, but his close relations with her would be known to anyone, and he would be quite offended if he'd been tricked by a puppet master stupid enough to let something slip in her company. He should not cast the possibility completely out of his mind, but it would still be wise to consider other things first.

Hermione...was out of the picture for now. He knew he would not be able to casually approach her for a while, and Daphne would not allow it, in any case. There was also the small matter of Daphne's 'persuasion'. He knew how protective that cousin of his was, and she wasn't even the worst of the lot in that regard, only the boldest. While she may scream and not shirk from public displays of violence, Amy would probably have taken a rusty knife, crept into Hermione's room in the middle of the night and scared her into complete submission with a sincere and persuasive display of mild torture...

Yeah, he was very glad that no Lestranges were involved for the moment, as Hermione would be useful later. It was true that she was a tool to lure the more stupid Slytherins into a trap, but that wasn't everything by a long shot. He really did intend to make things better around here–or at least more to his liking, he mused. Now she would have to fight her own battles. Maybe Tracey would take her under her wing a bit. She was much too kind for her own good, but if Daphne caught wind of that and objected, there was little doubt where her priorities would lie. The matter of imminent danger to him in the common room seemed to have solved itself on its own; while there was little doubt in the matter that he had a very fervid enemy at large who would probably have succeeded in blaming Harry for Nott's murder had he not been out of the dormitory at the time, the more stupid little worms would give him a little space now. Whatever the investigations yielded, others would not overlook his involvement in the matter, and fear was something he could live with. It was better than open hostility, at least...

~BLHD~

He must have finally fallen asleep at some point, as he was roughly jerked awake by a harassed-looking Professor Snape. 'Get up, Black! No rest for the wicked.'

Harry rubbed his eyes and tried to smooth his robes. 'How did it go, Professor?'

'It could've been worse. Your name came up, but I was able to give plausible evidence that you were with me at the time of the incident. For the time being, you have avoided the attention of Madame Bones, though I do not deny that she seemed most eager to get you roped into this. It somehow seemed an affront to her office that a Black was freely walking around.'

Harry nodded. The old man had always warned him about her, how gladly she would take any chance at all to destroy the last vestiges of the Blacks.

'Make yourself presentable, so as to not embarrass your house and proceed to the Great Hall. Breakfast is served as we speak, and you will partake in all lessons today! Am I understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Now get the hell out of here. I should warn you, though, that word has gotten out that it was your trunk that was involved in the, ah, regretful episode of last night.'

Harry could not help but feel a moderate amount of trepidation.

'I understand, sir. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.'

Suddenly, the professor had jumped across half the room and violently grabbed his left arm.

Harry winced, trying hard to ignore the sharp pain.

'Listen very carefully, Mr Black! I am no man's servant. I did what I did because I refuse to be pawn to any political ploy, do you understand me? If ever you are foolish enough to try and involve me in any plot of yours, I will do my utmost to return the favour. And you may find my problems a bit more severe than the childish games you little fools are so keen on playing!'

Professor Snape threw him backwards, and Harry stumbled, but just managed to keep standing.

'I understand, sir. I apologise if my careless words have offended.'

'Get going then!' The man turned around and marched towards his desk.

Not keen on his company for the moment, Harry hastily made his way towards the hall.

Merlin, did he have to grab my arm like that? If being implicated in murder is child's play to him, then I can indeed do without partaking in his 'problems'...

~BLHD~

Harry paused before entering the Great Hall and forced his countenance as hard as he could into a blank expression. He must not let up; he must not relent for one second. Weakness would not help him here. It might also be prudent to distance himself a bit from other people for a while to limit the damage to their reputation and family; depending on how the whole situation turned out, the political fallout could be immense. With a sense of foreboding, he imagined Daphne's reaction to his decision, but there really was no choice in the matter. It really was much smarter this way, surely she would see the logic of this...

Carefully arranging his face into an expression of supreme indifference, he opened the door and strode towards the Slytherin table.

The hall was eerily silent, and the students sat in groups, fiercely whispering about the latest news, no doubt. The headmaster and most of the staff were absent, but Harry spotted some Aurors discreetly standing in the corners in their stead. As soon as he had entered, all the eyes in the hall had turned towards him, and the angry muttering rose to alarming levels. It was especially bad when he passed the Gryffindor table.

'Can't believe how smug he looks. I guess I don't really mind the Darkers finishing each other off, but look how he doesn't even care that he murdered another student on his first day of school. Freaking psychopath, that one is...'

'How come he's not suspended, or in front of the Wizengamot, for that matter? Everyone heard how Nott challenged him; it was obviously revenge!'

'Have you seen him wearing the crest of his filthy house while he struts about? Can't believe he is actually proud of those lunatics...'

'Well, look at the crowd around him, man. Nutters the whole lot of them. Can't believe we have to suffer so many Slytherins this year.'

'Calm down, little bro. There is always hope. It's one slimy snake less already.'

'Yeah, but how come Davis, Granger and Greengrass even talk to him? I mean Malfoy is a little piece of pompous shit, but some of the girls look rather nice, if you ask me...'

'Ha – come off it! Would you really do a Slytherin? Groooosss!'

Harry tried his best to not let his irritation show. He knew they were not even bothering to keep their voices down in an attempt to provoke him. The Slytherins all scrutinized him rather carefully but did not allow their thoughts on the matter to be instantly readable. Even though he saw Draco and Daphne sitting further down the table, waving at him, he seated himself opposite some fifth year prefect he kind of remembered from the Sorting.

'Morning, Black. You seem better than I would have thought.'

'Yes, whatever. Fawley, right?'

'Yup. You may want to keep your head down for a while, Black. Friendly advice.'

'Sure.'

She did not seem irritated by his attitude and took it in stride.

'You know Greengrass, don't you?'

This made him look at her for the first time. She had long, curly blond hair and shiny dark eyes. She looked inquisitive, but did not seem the prying sort. She likely had had some business with that part of his family.

'That is correct.'

'I would appreciate it if you could keep her out of your mess. Some of those Pillar blokes look like they mean business.'

This did not surprise him, so he just plainly answered, 'I intended to do that in any case.'

'Good man.' She took her bag and stood up. 'The other Slytherin prefects and me are of the opinion that you should solve your own business. However this plays out, we won't intervene. Obviously, we'd prefer an outcome that wouldn't further damage public relations or implicate families of note. Thought you might want to know.'

He just nodded. This was both good and bad news, as he was somehow given free rein at the cost of being forsaken. She gave him one last look and strode away. 'Well – try to stay alive, Black.'

When he had finished a humble meal, he tried to casually sneak out of the hall, but someone had been waiting for him at the door and managed to grab the scruff of his neck.

'What the-'

He spun around, wand in hand, but found himself face to face with his cousin, who smirked crookedly.

'Thought you were on guard, Harry. That was pathetically easy, you know?'

She grabbed the sleeves of his robe and dragged him into an empty classroom.

'Eh...are you sure it is a good idea to talk in here, Daphne? This is not exactly private, so close to the Great Hall.'

'Oh, you prefer privacy, Harry? I think there is a broom cupboard down the hall if that's more to your liking?' She looked like she meant business. He must have angered her somehow.

'Uh, i-is everything alright, Daphne?'

She kept her distance, but her ocean-blue eyes sparkled with determination.

'Don't ever ignore me like that again! If you don't wish for my company, then have the damned guts to tell me so!'

He allowed a small sigh to escape his lips. It was true that while he may have run away from her quite often, he had never outright ignored her, especially not from a safe distance. This, however, presented an opportunity for him, something that was even more painful to him than her closeness. Hating himself for what he was about to do, he steeled himself, killing all the bubbling emotions that he associated with Daphne and forced his entire demeanour into casualness and relaxation.

'Then please mind your own business, Greengrass,' he said with an emotionless voice.

'Wh-What the hell are you talking about, Harry?' She looked shocked and lost a bit of her fervour.

'You said that I should tell you if I wanted to discontinue my association with you. Well, stay away from me, Greengrass!'

Harry's mouth tasted like ash. She looked like he'd slapped her, and he could see her eyes searching his, desperately looking for the hint of deceit. He couldn't remember ever calling her 'Greengrass' like that and knew this was a low blow that would hurt her badly. That memory still haunted her – him, too, for that matter. He was truly sorry for this, but drastic measures were required to have her back off. Her usual defiance seemed to slip away, and with a pang of regret, he could see her eyes getting moist.

It would have been so much better if she had shouted like her usual self, but she seemed unable to bring herself to do it. After their close talk yesterday, this must be especially hurtful, but he couldn't relent now. It was essential to keep family safe.

As her first tears sprang forth, she flung a single coin towards him and dashed out of the room. With a hot squirm in his guts, he remembered their bet and the precious time they had spent together not so long ago...

~BLHD~

Harry's mood was at a record low. He had noticed how the Aurors seemed to tail and escort him to his lessons, whether for investigational purposes or his security he could not say. Daphne's dejected and Tracey's annoyed glances didn't help, but he forced himself into indifference. He doubted if anyone except people of comparable calibre to his grandfather's would've picked up on his inner feelings. The girls were quite good at this, usually, albeit not really at Arcturus' level yet.

Realising his thoughts had strayed to his cousin again, he became a bit irritated with his lack of discipline and took a seat in the back of the room. He focused his mind hard on the coming lesson. He was indeed quite interested in this new professor, same as half the class, apparently. His reasons were likely different, though; he had seen most of the boys drooling after Professor Rose in the corridor. He was more intrigued by her background. She held herself with an air of dignity, and while there were quite a few half-bloods or Muggle-borns that did the same, it nevertheless often indicated other origins. Rose, however, was no name of old heritage–in Britain at least. He might have to do more research on the matter and was glad for anything to do to keep himself occupied.

His thoughts were interrupted when Draco entered and exchanged glances with Tracey. They tried to be subtle about this, but Tracey put on an act she had likely seen in one of those strange Muggle motion pictures. It was not hard to guess what they had talked about prior to the class and–sure enough–Draco settled himself next to him with an air of extreme friendliness and comradeship.

'Hey, mate, how's it...'

He would have to do something about this source of contact as well. Draco was a good deal sneakier than Daphne, so rough measures would throw him off for a while.

As if to return an overly friendly greeting, Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulder. What his classmates couldn't see, however, was that his wand was currently nestling perilously against Draco's throat. It was quite clear that the young Malfoy had noted this, on the other hand, as his eyebrows frantically lifted, and both of his hands shot up in an offer of surrender.

Harry steadily increased the temperature of the tip of his wand with a minor heating charm while catching Draco's eyes.

'Hey, "mate". I'm sure you wish to keep this conversation short, so I'll make this very clear to you.'

He could see his expression turn from surprise, to worry and finally to a painful grimace as the wood approached 70°C and still grew hotter by the second.

Harry leaned in, so no one else could hear the next words spoken between them.

'If you know what's good for you, leave me in peace. If Tracey involves you in this matter again, I may reach my burning point–if you get my meaning.'

He leaned back, but to underline the seriousness of his words he adjusted the temperature of his wand to a scorching 250°, if only for the fraction of a second. Draco yelped and jumped out of his chair, looking at him incredulously while rubbing his throat where a very angry dot had appeared.

Carefully, without breaking eye contact, he took his bag and took a seat near Tracey, who looked bewildered at the both of them. Well, that's those guys taken care off. Hermione's out of the picture for a while, so as long as Tracey stays her hands, this will do.

He was pleased to note that no one seemed willing to take the place next to him after his little show. That suited him just fine.

A few minutes later, the immaculate Professor Rose entered the classroom. He really had other things on his mind, but this woman was really a tad too beautiful for comfort. Not like those part-Veelas that were supposedly abundant in France and some other continental regions; she somehow seemed as if she were bred to perfection. That thought was quite worrisome in its own way.

She took the register and familiarised herself with the class, her glacial eyes shooting towards the person called up. After she was satisfied, she closed her eyes for a second and rearranged her features into a smile of pure benignity that was very nice to behold but aroused his immediate suspicion for that very reason. He tried to not give anything away and looked at her with polite interest. Most boys in the room were definitely less guarded, so this might have made him conspicuous all the same, but if that was the price to pay for not slavering like an idiot, he really couldn't help it.

'I welcome you to the basic study of Defence against the Dark Arts. I thought it would be profitable for you if we did some questions and answers today, so we may dispel any doubts about the course aims, the subject, myself or any other concern that may be on your mind.'

She casually leaned back into the adorned chair behind the teacher's escritoire and indicated with a smile and a slight gesture that they were allowed to ask away.

'Professor, what's your given name?'

She smiled. 'Aenor, Mr Macmillan.'

'That is an unusual name, Professor Rose.'

She smiled sweetly once more. 'And that was not a question, Mr Macmillan.' After a teasing pause, she answered nevertheless, flashing a smirk as the Hufflepuff grew redder by the second. 'It is of ancient Germanic origin, though the variation itself has its roots in medieval France.'

'Does that mean you're not from Britain, Professor Rose?'

'Why should it? You are, however, in this instance correct, Miss Bones.'

'Your English is very good for a foreigner, Professor!'

She awarded Macmillan with another smile, but did not answer.

'Do you have family in Britain, Professor Rose?'

'I do, Mr Zabini.'

'How did you get interested in Defence, Professor? It is very rare for a Professor to be this young, especially for Defence. My father told me once that they historically hardly ever accept people under forty years.'

'You are quite right, Mr Malfoy. But I seem to have profited from the unexpected resignation of Professor Dilyblles, who received an invitation to join a hunt for a particularly nasty pack of Lethifolds near the Caribbean.'

Without prior warning, she had her wand in her hands. It was of strange aesthetic quality and seemed to glow with a soft white light. The wood was light ivory and finely embellished. Her wand was pointed at Draco, who was in a state of shock as a cerulean spell shot towards him. He closed his eyes...but nothing happened.

After a short while, he opened them again, and (to Harry's wonderment) brought a hand to his throat where the burn should have been. Draco looked at her in amazement, and his mouth hung open.

'I also may just have some skill in the matter, so you should rest assured that I won't waste your time.' Her expression was pleasant but very dignified.

The class seemed to hang on every word she said after that. Even Draco seemed completely open about how smitten he was. There were only two other people who didn't seem very entertained.

'Professor? What is your favourite colour? Professor? Do you like flowers? Professor? Do you have a boyfriend? Professor? What is your cup size?' Tracey's mockingly avid voice rang through the classroom, and Harry had to work hard to conceal a laugh. The other boys seemed on the verge of open revolt, though there was little doubt that they were, in fact, most interested.

Professor Rose gave a small predatory smirk before looking straight at Tracey. With a challenging grin, she answered, 'Magenta, yes, no and 34C.'

Silence reigned supreme. Most boys were very red while the girls shared looks of shock and horror.

With a smug look, Professor Rose addressed Tracey. 'What about your own sizes then, Miss Davis? Surely you wouldn't mind telling your classmates such a trivial little thing. Or maybe I should make an educated guess for the benefit of the boys who know a bit more about Muggle-fashion...?'

The words hung precariously in the air for a while. Tracey only gaped at her and could–for once–not find a retort. Clearly enjoying the younger girl's dilemma, Professor Rose allowed the silence to stretch for a few more moments, sadistically relishing her victory.

'Or maybe not. I think this will do for personal questions. I would like to refocus your attention towards the subject at hand now.'

She stood up and walked towards the blackboard and tapped it with her wand once to make the course aims appear.

'Broadly speaking, all classes studying Defence follow the same procedures at Hogwarts, as far as I can tell. You learn a bit about 'Dark Creatures', as your Ministry so ignorantly likes to call them, and learn a negligible amount of useless spells in duelling. After six completely pointless years of study, you are a 'proficient wielder of defensive spellcraft' or so the Ministry would have you believe. In truth, anyone with the barest personal interest in such matters could probably still kill you without lifting his wand. The day before I arrived here, I had the misfortune of reading about what you are to learn here, and I am appalled. Let me be very clear about this: All the spells you are to learn in your first three years are practically useless in any real duel. Even attempting them will result in your instant death, should it ever come to that pitiful eventuality.'

As if to underline her statement, she picked up a large stack of parchment that many, Harry included, had identified as her notes for the lesson and let it flutter through her hands towards her feet. What had been an atmosphere of playfulness, was now one of complete amazement. The class was utterly baffled, while some individuals looked defensive. Those in Hufflepuff with deep connections to the Ministry were looking especially affronted.

'But, Professor Rose!' Sure enough, the Abbott girl eventually spoke out. 'The Ministry will have good reasons to not teach any other spells. It wouldn't be proper to learn those things in class, after all. This is no convention of Dark Wizards in training, but a school!'

The instructor, however, looked as if someone had just taken a bait. Harry didn't have a very good feeling about this.

'Ah yes, Miss Abbott. I believe I am correct if I assume that you have enjoyed the guidance of a private tutor by grace of the Ministry?'

The girl nodded defiantly.

'What did those people teach you? Enlighten me, please.'

'Well, lots of things, Professor! Stinging Hexes, Disarming Charms, Knockback Jinxes and much more!'

It was obvious how proud she felt. It would indeed seem that she wouldn't have any trouble, whatever the task Rose set her to. Their instructor's grin, however, became even more eerie.

'Not bad. So do you feel confident, then? In matters of duelling those of your age?'

Abbott nodded again and looked indeed quite confident. Other Hufflepuffs were throwing her envious glances while her neighbour, the Bones brat, giggled appreciatively.

'So how about this, Miss Abbott? You and Miss Bones against Mr Black. As the both of you have had the pleasure of learning much of the Ministry's curriculum in advance, this should be child's play, am I right?'

'Are you serious, Professor?!' She laughed loftily. 'The little Prince of Black? Sure, I look forward to it.'

Harry was annoyed at getting dragged into this, so he raised his voice for the first time this lesson.

'Is this really necessary, Professor Rose?'

She, in turn, smiled at him serenely. 'If you crave an incentive, Mr Black, you are excused from all further lessons until Yule, should you manage to come out on top.'

Yule...Good to know.

'I guess that will do, Professor.' Harry drawled.

She seemed amused by his nonchalant attitude, in contrast to the rest of the class. 'Hey, Susan! 10 Galleons if you hex his bits off!' 'Come on girls, beat the crap out of him and be done with it.' 'Hey do you think they are going to be in trouble if they "accidentally" finish the Darker off?'

Harry tried his best to ignore them and deliberately flounced towards the front. Both girls were getting up as well, heads stuck together, clearly formulating some kind of strategy. Suddenly, one of them sniggered. Harry was quite annoyed by now. While the extra free time would be worth a bit of sport, he really did want to avoid attention as the madman who threw curses for words.

A sudden inspiration made him laugh in malicious joy. Trying his best to ignore Daphne, who was bent on catching his eye, he took his position fifteen feet away from the girls and casually leant against the wall.

Professor Rose sat down on her desk and, with a complicated dance of her wand that seemed to go on forever, constructed a very long barrier between the four of them and the rest of the class. 'You may use any spell that comes to your mind, except those prohibited by your esteemed Ministry, of course. My command to start will be a bang of my wand. Do not attempt to...'

Harry didn't really listen, as this did not concern him. He had already decided what to do and was sure it was within the rules set for them, whatever they may be. Instead, he shot a glance towards the barrier and–to his delighted surprise–was forced to take a second look. It was unlike any magic he had ever seen before. Dazzled, he turned around completely and inspected it in greater detail, altogether ignoring the instructions, at last. Conventional barriers tried to divide their energy into carefully outlined patterns. This ensured that the whole barrier was segmented down into smaller, independent parts. Every smaller field was of equal strength, and even if a smaller field should fail, in time it would automatically rebuild itself, as long as the barrier was not disturbed on a grander scale. By even momentarily slicing it in two, for example, you would ensure that too many connections were broken and the barrier would fail, even if the attempt had not been very overwhelming in its approach. In short, conventional barriers were rare, because they struggled against overwhelming might and extreme precision.

This thing before him, in contrast, casually threw all those concepts out of the window. It was a...watery fabric of magic, heavily laced with spells of movement and direction. It would take him hours to completely understand its base principles, but his temporary theory was that any attack on it automatically disturbed the barrier, resulting in a small pull of sorts. This would immediately cause all the free magic in the fabric to surge towards the weak point and close it in the process. If you wanted to beat this beast, you would be forced to overpower it with more strength than the original caster endowed it with–in a single attack. Or whittle it down–Merlin knows how long that would take. This was simply incredible!

His hand outstretched in nearly unconscious longing, an amused voice to his left suddenly brought him back to the world. 'Do you find it to your liking, Mr Black?'

Horror-struck, he slowly turned around. Professor Rose's predatory grin in combination with the looks of complete befuddlement around the rest of the class told him, to his immediate regret, that this barrier was probably invisible.

Damn!

'Sorry, Professor. I'm ready at your convenience,' Harry answered, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

She continued to give her smirk that somehow easily got the message across: 'Got'cha!'

Damn it! I'm such an idiot. One moment of childish curiosity and here I go again.

'Take your positions. Remember my warnings–if you listened, that is.'

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. The girls looked even more eager than before, obviously interpreting his disinterest as arrogance.

'20 Galleons on the girls,' shouted Macmillan in the background.

'Wish I had that much to bet. What kind of muppet would take you on in any case, Ernie?'

'Haha, I will!' That was Draco. He really wanted a cut if he had to do the dirty work, but as he was resolute to remain cold towards his friends, that was no real option here.

'On my command!'

Silence fell.

'One!'

Abbott and Bones looked annoyingly confident.

'Two!'

He tried his best to ignore his wand, which was very pleased with his plan and miaowed excitedly–he guessed.

A loud bang indicated the start of the duel, but Harry only drawled in a carrying voice: 'Protego!'

He had held back slightly, but the force of the shield still was such that one of the girls squealed and fell on her behind as waves of blue light visibly rippled down in front of him. His grandfather had told him that it was very rare for a shield to be clearly visible. His own, on the other hand, looked like a cascade of tangible light.

He was very confident in his shield. In fact, he knew that both girls were likely instructed in more and more advanced duelling magic than him, but how would that help them here? You could only undo such magic if you could overpower it or attack the magic at its core, and that required theoretical knowledge these two would not possess.

To mock them, he sat down cross-legged, keeping his wand pointed in front of him to maintain the shield.

Abbott continued to rain spells down on him and Bones soon joined her, the second she had stood up. Harry gave them supremely unconcerned looks, which only served to enrage them further. Stinging hexes soon became disarming jinxes that turned into stunners and some really nasty yellow stuff that he couldn't immediately place.

But everything they threw at him evaporated at the fiercely glowing waterfall of energy before him. After a while, he looked at Professor Rose and gave a shrug. She grinned back.

'Mr Black wins,' she finally proclaimed to the annoyance and murmurings of many a Hufflepuff.

'What? Why? He's just sitting there. He hasn't hit them once, Professor!'

'What the hell was that blue stuff, anyway?'

'Wasn't that a Shield Charm? That stuff is taught around fourth year, isn't it?'

'Does it usually look like that, though?'

Professor Rose flicked her hand, and the wands of both girls flew towards her. Harry, in turn, lowered his shield.

'Mr Macmillan, what was the purpose of this demonstration?' Rose asked exasperatedly.

'Uh, to beat the crap out of some Darker bastard?' he tried earnestly.

'No. Anyone else have a more educated guess?'

Daphne raised her hand.

'Yes, Miss Greengrass?' Harry was actually quite impressed that she had managed to remember every name so far.

'To prove that the curriculum laid out by the Ministry is inherently flawed. Or that even continued instructions in these matters may not yield the desired result if there is a...' she cleared her throat in delight, 'wide gap in ability.'

'A better answer. Miss Jones? Any idea what these young ladies could have done better, or why they failed, even though they probably knew more magic than Mr Black?'

The girl gave a thoughtful look before answering.

'I think they wasted too much time at the start, Professor. They should have both started with stunners, seeing as they could both perform them. I think I would have tried to flank him, too.'

Professor Rose gave a small nod. 'Three points to Hufflepuff. Such things as shields divide magic and try to protect a specific room or field with a given amount of power. The larger the area under fire, the weaker the protection becomes.' She shot a knowing look towards Harry that he really did not appreciate. 'Usually, at least.'

She waved her wand, causing her barrier to flicker and die. Harry walked to his chair, sparing the rest of the class not a single glance. After the girls had retrieved their wands, they sat down, clearly disgruntled.

'I would like to stress the point that shields are a good defensive tool, but do only have a small place in real duelling. Being able to cast a second spell while holding your shield in place requires such prodigious skill that it may be more accurate to label it an innate talent, and even then the shield will still impede your own attack. Generally, counter-curses and hex-deflection are better ways to deal with incoming attacks, but require a great deal of concentration and finesse as an off-trade.

'Seeing as this is a defence class, as Miss Abbott so aptly said, we shall concentrate on measures against incoming attacks until all of you are proficient enough to cast spells of equal magnitude to the Disarming Charm or Stunning Spell.'

Hermione meekly raised a hand. 'But the curriculum, Professor...'

'Miss Granger, I do not give a Knut about your precious curriculum. As long as I teach here, you will either learn real defence, or nothing at all. If you truly wish to learn all the useless stuff your Ministry deems so important, like the mighty Tickling Charm, you can do so in your free time. Any other questions?'

A tentative hand rose in the back.

'Yes, Mr Sallyweather?'

'Excuse me, Professor Rose, but what exactly is the difference between hex deflection, counter-curses and all that other stuff you mentioned?'

'Good question. In general, you may consider any classification of magic inherently flawed, but–for the time being–you may imagine the matter as follows:

'Hex deflection, as the name states, tries to avert the magic flung towards you. It is not unlike a local application of shielding magic. However, you need very keen reflexes to make it work. One may imagine the wand as the bat and the enemy curses as bludgers. It offers the broadest of protections, yet due to its inherent difficulty, few people make use of it. There also exists a variation to hurl offensive spells into the enemy spell-fire, as some curses cannot be blocked so easily. In summary, you need at least comparable magical power in comparison to your opponent, as well as superior reflexes in general.

'The name counter-curses, on the other hand, may be misleading. Contrary to what one might think initially, this magic has little to do with only remedying the effect of adverse magics. In truth, one shoots a specific magic designed to counter the enemy spell. These spells take effect either during the flight of incoming spell-fire or once it has already taken hold of its target, it truly doesn't matter. You should imagine counter-curses as magic aimed to overcome the enemy spellwork. This does not mean that counter-curses have no effect on their own, and some can actually be quite dangerous. Often enough, there exists only one counter-curse available, sometimes none at all. This method of defence requires a broad knowledge, and even then there is no way you will ever know every counter-curse there is. In addition to that, the inherent reactive nature of this strategy makes speed of the utmost importance, as you will be battling not only your opponent but your reaction time, as well. Even then it is still worth knowing these counter-curses, of course, as you will find some spells used very often, like Expelliarmus, Stupefy or Reducto. At least in non-professional duels. Counter-curses also may help undo damage inflicted by your opponent, either during or after your confrontation.

'Lastly, you should take note that there are other ways to impede magic. For example, physical objects. There may even be forces to inhibit or at least dampen conventional applications of magic. You would therefore be wise to always be careful in all your confrontations.'

She looked around the classroom and observed the class' reaction. After a while, her expression started to tighten, as if she'd been disappointed. Harry guessed what this was about, but he didn't really care. If she was true to her word, he would have some nice free time without any fuss. Maybe Rose wasn't so bad after all...

'Mr Black, would you mind asking a question for your intimidated peers?'

Peers? Hardly...

'Which one, Professor Rose?' he returned calmly.

A small, elegant and altogether dishonest grin graced her features. 'If you would be so kind as to start with the obvious one, Mr Black?'

'What about evasion, Professor Rose?'

The young professor's features turned into somewhat honest appreciation, and she nodded thankfully towards him. 'What a curious question, Mr Black! More curious considering nobody else thought of this... The most obvious answer should have been to get out of the way, evading the incoming magic. I thought I had made it quite clear that all the former methods of defence are fairly difficult to pull off in stressful situations. Jumping out of the line of fire, however, should be comparably easy to accomplish, as it is the natural reflexive action.'

She seemed to consider them for a moment. Harry thought some seemed offended by the easy answer or maybe by her suggestion to roll around the floor or duck behind something possibly filthy. In the end, Rose continued in a business-like tone, 'I see. You will write an essay about the counter-curses to all jinxes present in your beloved curriculum until and including the second year. You will be tested on these, so study hard. You have three weeks for this, the length of your assignment is of no concern to me as long as the contents are sufficiently complete. That will be all.'

Just when Harry made to grab his bag, he heard a soft voice from the front. 'A word, if you please, Mr Black.'

Feeling that sense of foreboding again, Harry couldn't avoid getting slightly nervous. Professor Rose was ominous. Even more fishy than he was himself. That he could not openly decline her orders was so very irksome to him. He really wasn't used to being at the mercy of others...

Professor Rose closed the door behind the last student and comfortably settled herself in the chair behind her desk.

'Mr Black. Are you actually aware that the cascading fluctuation observable as a ripple in your shield is a likely vulnerability? If you were to distribute the magic more evenly the overall structural density would increase, you know?'

'I am aware of that, Professor. My goal was not to achieve maximum protection, but rather to impress those girls with a grand showing.'

She smiled, but didn't immediately reply. Finally, she delicately folded her legs and looked him deep into the eye. 'If I were teaching at my old school, I would have handled things a bit differently, you know? Here, I am very much more free in my lessons, yet at the same time so very restricted in my methods. But you are not exactly the average student are you, Mr Black?'

She studied his eyes, and he did his utmost to appear calm and not give anything away.

'No,' she said softly. 'No, you're not. Seeing as you aren'tt exactly average, you will hopefully not hold it against me if I take a slightly different course of action with you. I find myself...curious, Mr Black.'

Harry didn't know if he liked where this was going. Something wasn't right with this otherworldly beauty in front of him. 'How so, Professor?'

'What would you do,' Rose drawled, '...if I did this?'

All of a sudden, something was ferociously ravaging his mind. It was agony as he had never felt before, and he rolled up on the floor, choking hard, as he tried to concentrate on his Occlumency as best as he could. Yet there was simply no way to stifle the screams of pain that left his vocal cords. Trying not to retch his guts out, he fought what felt like no single probe, but an attack from all sides: relentless and devilishly brutal; merciless and all-powerful...

Wave upon wave of innumerable burning needles tore at his brain, singeing his insides, assaulting his sanity. He was sure it was a lost fight, but he held on to the brink of his abilities, even as he felt the blood trickle down his ears and nose.

For hours, he lay on the hard, cold floor, writhing in anguish, while his tormentor sat smiling beatifically behind her desk. Days went by, the planet leisurely orbited the sun a few dozen times, stars were born and died. Finally, the whole universe collapsed in his dark world of agony, and everything grew algid and dim. Harry floated in an empty void of excruciation for an indeterminable amount of time, losing all orientation, sense and self-awareness until suddenly–inexplicably–the pain that had long since become everything his existence had been reduced to, ceased to be.

It took him minutes to remember where and who he was, as he lay on the chilly stone, frantically gasping, fighting the cramps all over his body. Then, like salvation, the heavenly voice of an angel floated down towards him, piercing the clouds of his consciousness like a caressing ray of warm light.

'Eight seconds. Not bad, Mr Black, but I'm sure you can do better. Students that arouse my personal interest are expected to perform according to different standards. I suggest you use your free time in the coming weeks to improve upon the defences of your mind.'

Something light fluttered down on his face, and he feebly tried to grab whatever it was, barely even registering the protest his muscles gave.

'I would like to believe that you will put in a serious effort, Mr Black. Before the holidays, you may enjoy another private exam with me.'

He focused his hazy vision on the small bit of parchment in his hands. It was a free pass to any book in the restricted section, signed by a certain Aenor E. Rose.

'Try not to bleed all over the desk when you show yourself out. I am rather fond of it.'