Shadows of Light

Shadows of Light

Chapter Three

It was drafty in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Gryffindors took their usual seats and waited for the professor to arrive. There was a bit of speculation as to who might have taken the job, as the students had yet to see the new professor. Whoever had taken the job was not at the Welcoming Feast, nor had any new teacher been seen in the halls. Sixth year Gryffindors would be the first students to actually meet the new professor.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the front of the classroom. "I wonder why they're keeping this all so hushed up," Ron muttered.

Harry looked around to making certain no one else was listening in. "I know why," he whispered. Ron and Hermione had to lean in to catch his words. "It's someone from the order." Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat before speaking in the same hushed whisper as Harry.

"You don't think..."

A loud slam alerted the class to the doorway where a large and quite sullen group of Slytherins stood. There was an ominous silence as the rival houses glared at each other. It was a rather unpleasant experience seeing one's adversaries outside of necessity.

"What are the Slytherins doing here?" Seamus Finnigan demanded loudly.

"Haven't you any brains in that thick skull of yours?" Pansy Parkinson demanded in her shrill voice. "We're here for Defense Against the Dark Arts class." As she spoke, the green-crested students began to take seats as far away from their Gryffindor opponents as they possibly could in the small, stone classroom.

"But Slytherins!" Ron spat furiously, gesturing around him.

"Congratulations Weasley, you've finally mastered stating the obvious," a drawling voice retorted. The Slytherins howled in laughter.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by a loud, ringing voice.

"Hello, class! I'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arrrrrgh!" The new professor was a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length brown hair, and a knack, it seemed, for making accidents. In this instant she had tripped over a student's bag and fallen unceremoniously to the floor. For a moment, her hair turned a fiery red as she pulled herself up mumbling curses, before it turned back to the ordinary brown it was before. "I'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," she announced breathlessly, smiling nervously at the class in front of her. "Does anyone have any questions, so far?"

"I have a question," Draco Malfoy drawled loudly from the back of the classroom. "Do you have a name?" A few Slytherins could be heard sniggering.

The flustered teacher turned her gaze to Malfoy. "Yes, of course I have a name," she replied fretfully. "You may call me Professor..." She looked around the room, her wiry glasses askew on her face, until her eyes rested on a bright red apple on her desk. "Apple. Umm, my name is Professor Apple." She looked around the classroom for a moment taking in the student's faces.

Professor Apple pulled out a long scroll and began to take role. She gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione a secret smile when she called out their names on the roll. Draco watched his new teacher in unmasked suspicion. Something was up.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I have combined your houses into one class." For a moment, there was silence, before the class exploded in protests.

"Why would anyone..."

"With Slytherins!"

"See too much of those brainless Gryffindors!"

"Who do you think you are?"

"With Slytherins!"

"Who are you calling brainless?"

"Is this some sort of a sick joke?"

"I'll knock your fucking teeth out!"

"Language, Weasley."

"You can't put us with Slytherins!"

"You can't put us with Gryffindors!"

"SHUT UP!!!" The entire class froze in mid-action. Ron had Malfoy by the cuff of his robes. Malfoy's hands were around Ron's neck, and Ron's face was as red as his hair. Pansy Parkinson had grabbed Hermione by her long bushy hair. Neville was suspended upside down, each leg held up by a sniggering Crabbe and Goyle. Everyone turned to look at Harry in shock. "If Professor Apple says she has a good reason for lobbing us together, than maybe we should listen to what she has to say!"

Professor Apple looked quite abashed. "Well!" she huffed indignantly. "If you're all quite finished!" Crabbe and Goyle dropped Neville's feet, who toppled ungracefully to the floor. Hermione pulled her hair out of Pansy's grasp and Ron and Draco pushed each other away with a sort of macho force.

Professor Apple smiled at the class once more, and continued. "I think you all know that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is becoming harder to fill each year; some say it's jinxed. I work in the Ministry of Magic and took this job as a favor to Dumbledore, but I have other duties in the ministry. I can only teach two classes, that's why you are bunched together, so please try to act civilized. Now, turn in your book to chapter 27, we're going to go over defense against hexes."

When the bell rang, the students shoved their books in their bags and headed for the door in one mass movement. It took Draco about five minutes to realize he had forgotten his book, and about ten minutes to turn around and push his way back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in the large horde of students. Draco slipped in quietly amongst the loud chatter of the students in the hall. He had reached his desk, grabbed his book, and was heading out when he heard different voices talking. It took him only a moment to realize that these were the voices of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the new professor.

"...order..."

Draco ducked down suddenly, as if he were afraid of being seen, then crouched and walked silently, back hunched, towards the sounds of the voices. They were coming from the professor's office above the stairs, floating just into earshot.

"Well, I can't really say what that is," replied Professor Apple.

"Tonks, why is there a map of my neighborhood on your desk?" asked Hermione.

"Umm, that's top secret order business," the professor, whose real name, Draco assumed, was Tonks, replied.

"But that's my parent's house!" Hermione sounded defensive.

"Hermione, do you really think they would do something to harm your family?" Harry's voice was consoling, and a small sigh sounded from Hermione.

"I suppose you're right."

"Is that what you do every night, Tonks, put spells around people's houses and stuff?" Ron's voice sounded excited.

"Listen, Ron, maybe it's better if we don't know," Harry's voice remonstrated.

Draco began to feel a tickle under his nose. The voices continued, oblivious to Draco's presence.

"Harry, suppose, well, suppose Lord...Voldemort... were to come to my house and kill my parents, I would want to know that someone was trying to protect them. You of all people should understand that."Hermione's voice sounded almost choked.

"Come here, don't worry, I'm sure the order will protect you." Ron's voice was a bit muffled as if he had pulled Hermione into a hug.

Draco's nose began to twinge torturously, but he needed to hear more. "I didn't mean it like that Hermione," Harry whispered.

"I want it understood," began Tonks, but she didn't have a chance to finish her sentence because the sound of a half muffled sneeze had broken the still silence.

Draco did not wait for someone to come down and find him; he bolted to the door, his bag swinging precariously around him. Harry was halfway down the stairs when the door to the classroom swung shut.

The cold Common Room was empty when Draco entered it after Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, as everyone else was at lunch, or pondering the mysterious activities of the new teacher. He gazed around looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming before he sank down on the black leather sofa in front of the glowing fire, stretching his legs out luxuriously. What valuable information, Draco had encountered. So there was a secret organization, and this new teacher was a member. He thought for a moment, he had very vital facts that the Dark Lord would want, maybe he could use this to his advantage. His mother might be interested to hear. Speaking of which, he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a slightly wrinkled letter. He gave one last look around the room to make sure that there was still no one there, before he opened the thick envelope and pulled out the parchment inside.

Draco,

Do not forget your task for today's Quidditch practice. You must be discreet; until your father escapes and clears his charge, I'm afraid the Malfoy name is tarnished. You must give no one reason to suspect you. I would also remind you of the bovioria that resides in your trunk; it may be of assistance to you in this act.

Destroy this once you have read it.

Narcissa

Draco crumpled the letter in one hand feeling the thick parchment folding painfully into the shape of his fist; all thoughts of the order seemed to have escaped his mind as he dwelled on the incompetent tone of the letter. His mother treated him as if he were a bungling child. He was 16 years old; he knew how to carry out a plan. Draco felt a rush of fury towards Potter, if he hadn't meddled in the Dark Lord's affairs, Lucius would still be free. Draco threw the crumpled parchment into the fire, where it ignited at once. There were times when Draco disliked his father, as all teenagers do, but Lucius had trained him to be the outstanding Malfoy he was today, and no scar-faced Halfblood was going to take that away from him.

The entrance to the common room slid open. Draco lifted his head to look at the newcomer. It was Adrian Pucey, the new Quidditch captain for the Slytherin team. He glanced around and spotted Draco lounging on the couch.

"We have practice in an hour, Draco," he said making his way to the 7th year boy's dormitories. "I suggest you get ready," he called over his shoulder.

Draco groaned as he pulled himself off the comfortable sofa and trudged up to his own 6th year dormitory. He changed into his green, and silver, Quidditch robes, flung his Nimbus 2001 over his shoulder and made his way down to the pitch.

The sun was beginning to sink over the treetops, but Draco didn't mind. They usually practiced at night. That way, it was harder for any prying eyes to see their tactics. The pitch was empty; this was due to the fact that Draco was considerably early. Practice didn't start for another half an hour. Draco strolled over to Madame Hooch's Office, which was underneath the teacher's stands. This small room, next to the stairway leading up into the bleachers, was where the school brooms and other Quidditch equipment was kept.

Draco pulled his wand out from his cloak and muttered "Alohomora." The door swung open and he stepped in and had a look around. There were two basic sets of Quidditch balls, one for the actual game and the other for practice. However, the walls were lined with boxes of spares. He strode over to the place where the game balls were kept and whipped out his wand.

"Alohomora," he muttered once more. Nothing happened. There were obviously pretty strong spells protecting the Quidditch Balls. Draco realized this made sense. They wouldn't want just anyone with a First Year level education being able to just walk in and tamper with the balls. Luckily, Draco had a lot more than just a First Year's education. In fact, he had more than a 7th year's, owing to his family... situation.

He pointed his wand once again at the box and whispered "Arcae Apertum," hearing the satisfying click of the lock, he opened the crate. The two bludgers thrashed around wildly as if just they had just been awoken and were angry for it. Draco pointed his wand and muttered a spell under his breath before slamming the lid down and magically locking the wooden crate.

Swiftly and silently, he made for the door, making sure nothing was out of place, and with one last satisfied glance, he swung the door shut. And not a moment to soon, Draco could just make out Pucey's figure striding down the lawns. Draco quickly ducked out of sight and waited for Pucey to open the door to retrieve the supplies needed for practice. The deed had been done. . .