They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Nine - The Ex-Auror and The Imperius Curse

Word travelled quickly through the school that Professor Moody had ambushed the N.E.W.T. Defence class at their first meeting. He had burst into the classroom after the bell and caught the whole lot of them with a Binding Hex.

"And then he stood over us and laughed, he did," Terrence Higgs, the seventh-year prefect complained at the lunch table. "Taunted us. Said if he'd been a Death Eater, we'd all be dead. Panning opens her yap and says that they wouldn't be sitting and waiting for a Death Eater. Moody gets right in her face and screams 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' She passed right out."

"Wow," Harry said, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Intense."

Pansy seemed to find the tale distasteful. "How dreadfully vulgar."

"It gets better," Higgs said. "Then he goes and takes ten points for 'weakness unbecoming a Gryffindor'."

Tim laughed rudely. "I think I might like our new Professor."

"I hope he doesn't do the same to us," Blaise worried. "We've got him next lesson."

"Good luck," Higgs wished them, and he moved down the table to sit next to Ellen Pritchard.

The fourth years hurried into chairs right in front of the professor's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as when they'd first seen him. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down. "Those books; you won't need them."

They did as instructed, exchanging excited glances. A real lesson!

Professor Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared herself present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures. You've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what nasty sorts of things wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark forces. I'm staying just the one year as a special favour to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So, straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore thinks you're made of sterner stuff. He reckons you can cope, and I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

No one dared to breathe. Moody had the same gift as McGonagall and Snape; they could all keep a class silent without effort.

"So, do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Tim's hand was instantly in the air, as was Draco's. Moody pointed at Draco. "Malfoy?"

"The Imperius Curse."

"Ah, yes," said Moody sharply. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Draco was biting his lip. "Yes, my father was placed under the Imperius Curse during the last war."

"Of course." By his tone, Moody didn't believe a word of it. Harry knew better too.

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing - everyone except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats. Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. Turning back to the class at large, he asked, "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Tim's hand went back into the air. "Cruciatus."

Professor Moody reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need knives or the rack to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. That one was very popular once too.

"Right. Anyone know any others?"

Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. He tentatively raised his own hand. Moody's eye fixed on him. "Yes?"

"The Killing Curse." Harry's words were flat.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Harry resolutely kept his face impassive as Moody's eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all.

So that was how his parents had died: exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding death, before life was wiped from their bodies?

Harry had been picturing his parents' deaths over and over again for three years now, ever since he'd found out they had been murdered, ever since he'd found out what had happened that night. He knew the intimate details because he had heard his parents' voices when he had fought the dementors last year. It had haunted his dreams.

Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to Harry. With a massive effort, he pulled himself back to the present and listened to what Moody was saying.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it. You could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills. Copy this down."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang, but when Moody had dismissed them, a torrent of talk burst forth as they left the classroom. The curses were the sole topic of conversation.

Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry as he walked by the desk. "You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, almost defiantly.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending it's not going to happen. Better to be prepared. Constant vigilance. Constant. Get to your class now."

The girls had gone ahead to the Astronomy Tower, but the lads were waiting for him outside. As they cut through the Charms corridor, they encountered Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas. Harry groaned when he saw the scowl on Weasley's face. That expression usually meant a fight was brewing.

"Ignore him," Draco said loudly as they walked by. "They're not worth noticing."

Harry cracked a smile, but he heard sharp inhalations from the Gryffindors.

"Tell me, Malfoy, were you and your parents part of that crowd of Death Eaters at the World Cup, or did they leave you in the care of the house elves?"

Draco stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned, hatred blazing coldly in his pale grey eyes. "I didn't have time to go play with Muggles, Weasley. I was in the woods with your sister," he insinuated with a forced drawl.

Weasley turned red faster than Harry had ever seen him, and he threw down his bag furiously. He was about to launch himself at Draco when Finnigan and Thomas caught his arms.

"Let me go! Slytherin slime, I'll rip your lying tongue out!"

"It's true," Draco smirked. "She sure did look pretty in the moon light."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Ron, calm down!" Finnigan yelled. "He's just winding you up!"

Weasley drew himself up, as if to make a great lunge, but instead he stood up straight. He appeared suddenly calm, and he appeared to have had a thought. He smirked, his long nose giving him a sinister look. "You can't hide forever. One day you'll slip, and everyone will find out what scummy, in-bred, Dark-loving pigs you are. Maybe you'll be lucky and they'll give you the cell next to your dear auntie."

Draco sputtered, made speechless at Weasley's cutting words. The red-haired boy laughed mockingly, picked up his bag, and turned to walk away. "Let's go," he said to Thomas and Finnigan. "We're going to be late for Transfiguration."

"That filthy, Muggle-loving swine," Draco hissed venomously. He drew his wand and pointed it at Weasley's turned back. "Let's see how you like this!"

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" came a loud roar, and there was a tremendous bang. Professor Moody limped down the hall. His wand was out, and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone tile floor, exactly where Draco had been standing. Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, and Tim were staring amazed.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled to Weasley. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No. Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

Crabbe, who had been about to pick up the white ferret, froze in his place. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward them, and the ferret gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the stairs.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again. It flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do!"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

Moody had clearly flipped out, but what could Harry do about it? Short of drawing his wand and attacking a teacher, nothing. Draco had really crossed a bad line in Moody's eyes.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

The Deputy Headmistress was coming down the corridor with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach? Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody. "Though technically, it's a ferret right now."

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Draco with great dislike.

Draco, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered, "You wait until my father hears about this, you crazy old man."

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son. You tell him that from me. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Draco resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. Come on, you."

He seized Draco's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

Harry followed Moody and Draco with his eyes, but there was nothing to be done. They had to get to Astronomy. They didn't get a chance to tell the girls what had happened either, because Professor Sinistra did not wait for the bell to ring before starting her lecture.

After fidgeting all class, Harry urged the girls to follow him to a nearby room where several ghosts were playing cards in the corner. Ignoring them, Harry closed the door.

"Where's Draco?" Pansy asked instantly.

"Moody dragged him off. He tried to curse Weasley, and Moody transfigured him."

"What?!"

"Into a white ferret." Tim savoured the word. "And then Moody bounced him around a bit."

"That's barbaric!" Pansy sounded truly outraged.

"He deserved it. Weasley's back was turned. The bloke should at least be allowed the dignity of attempting to draw his wand. He is a pureblood, even if he is a blood traitor."

They discovered Draco back at the dorm and in bed. His pale skin was covered with fading bruises, ugly yellow and purple blotches that looked extremely painful. There was an empty potion bottle on his bedside table.

"Professor Snape give you a miracle concoction?" Harry asked.

"I don't feel a thing," Draco said in a spacey sort of voice. "What've I missed?"

"Crabbe will fill you in," Tim replied. "I hope you're happy."

"I won't be cursing Weasley from behind any more, that's for sure. Snape said it was conduct unworthy of a Slytherin, and if I wanted to try it again, I could learn what it was like to homogenize fire ants by hand every night for the next month. So I told him I'd only ever try to curse Weasley when he'd had fair warning."

"What'd Snape say to that?"

"He said that would be fine."

Harry laughed. That was Snape for you. If a Slytherin couldn't beat someone plainly, it meant nothing. Ambition led some to cheat, but Snape had threatened a slow disintegration to any Slytherin caught cheating. This was an extension of that philosophy. Seek any legitimate advantage, but don't cross the line.

Everyone fussed over Draco for awhile, but he felt well enough to join them for dinner. He ate slowly, but he cleared his plate, and by Saturday morning, he was back to his old self.

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott ventured over the Slytherin table at breakfast. They made a beeline for Harry, and he stood to greet them.

"Greetings, Hufflepuffs," he said, bowing extravagantly. "What brings you into Slytherin country?"

"Good morning, Harry," Susan said with a smile. "How was your first day of classes? You had Moody on Friday, right?"

"Oh yeah. He's a riot. He's going to give us a crash course in the Unforgivable Curses."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"Moody's one of the best. Aunt Amelia says so. You can never be too paranoid, she says."

"He doesn't try to sugarcoat it," Harry admitted. "It's pretty graphic."

"I hear Longbottom went in to shock," Draco snickered.

"It was pretty shocking," Harry shot back.

"Right."

"So, Harry, what did you have planned for tomorrow?" Susan asked.

"Nothing much. No homework yet. Probably sleep in and laze about all day."

"The weather is still very nice. Would you like to join us for an outing on the lake?"

Harry considered the idea. "Just me? Or are you inviting all of us? Who else is coming along?"

Hannah laughed softly. "Well, Malfoy can be invited, of course. We wouldn't dream of making you come alone."

"Again," Susan added.

Harry remembered the afternoon by the pool he'd shared with the two Hufflepuff girls. "Yeah. Draco, what do you say?"

"Boating sounds fun. Maybe we'll see some mer-people."

"There you are," Harry told the girls. "What time and where?"

"After breakfast at the front gate?" Hannah suggested.

"We'll be there."

"See you then." The Hufflepuffs returned to their designated table.

"Draco," Pansy said dangerously, "Why are you making dates with Hufflepuffs?"

"It's not a date," Draco denied. "Not for me, anyway. For Harry, yes, but I'm going just to support him. Besides, I don't know if Bones or Abbott is after him."

"I hope it's Bones," Tim chimed in before Pansy could respond. "They're a fine old family. Abbott, on the other hand, is a halfblood. I did some digging after your birthday party, Harry. Her mother was a Mudblood, you know, also a Huffleduffer. You don't want to go hanging with her sort."

"You know what, Tim?" Harry said in a dangerous voice of his own. "Shut your mouth. I mean it. Shut your filthy mouth. I'll hang with whomever I like. I've had just about enough of you ranting on about Mudbloods. Enough. I'm sick if it. I'm not going to tell you again."

"What is your malfunction?" Tim demanded scathingly.

"I'm sick of being told what a good pureblood does or doesn't do. Maybe it's slipped your mind, genius, but I'm not a pureblood. My mother was Muggleborn."

"Harry, I'm not talking about you. I don't mean your mum-"

"You don't mean Hannah's mum either! She's probably a lovely woman."

"Individual exceptions do not invalidate the rule. Muggleborns are threats to our world. They are untrustworthy, for one, and two, they bring their obnoxious culture-"

"Not any more!" Harry interrupted angrily. "That's the whole point of the Magical Child Protection Act! It's to separate wizards and Muggles so that kids like me don't get knocked around. I'd have been pleased as punch to grow up as a wizard. I should have, if it wasn't for Voldemort."

Tim flinched slightly.

"Stop that! Sirius isn't afraid of him. Neither am I. Sirius has told me a lot of good things about my mum, too, and I won't have you defame her blood any more."

"Blood matters."

"Ability matters more, you twit! It's in the Rules! Lily Evans was Head Girl and a whiz at Charms and Potions. She was as fine a witch as you could ask for. And let me remind you, Mister Superiority, that it was that Muggleborn Granger girl who took tops in every class first year. Pity she had some bad luck, because she'd probably still be whipping you!"

"Shut up!" Tim shouted, finally stung to the quick.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it Tim?" Harry taunted. "Come on, tell us all how ashamed you are to be beat by a girl with no wizarding family. Tell us."

"It makes me crazy!" Tim yelled. "I don't understand it! It makes no sense!"

Harry paused a moment. He looked Tim square in the eye. "Yes, it does, Tim. It means that blood isn't everything. Magical heritage can help a lot, but it's not the only thing. There's something else."

"Blood matters," Tim repeated in a much quieter tone. He turned and left the Great Hall, muttering to himself, but Harry couldn't hear his words. Which was probably for the better.

Harry watched him leave and turned a hard eye on the rest of his friends. "Anyone else?"

Draco looked completely gobsmacked. "Not after that little show," he said in an awed tone. "I've never seen anyone do that to Tim."

"I meant every word. And that goes for you too, Draco."

"I've always known that magic matters more than blood. Muggles are what I hate, for all the wrongs they've done us wizards. I think Father's law is exactly what we needed to solve the Muggleborn problem. Give it two generations and there'll be all-new pureblood lines springing up. They won't be as distinguished as the Malfoy or Black names, of course, but these things take time."

Thankfully it was early and not many people were in the Great Hall to witness the public disagreement between members of Slytherin House. Those rumours that did get spread painted Tim as the jerk, which certainly was the case as far as Harry was concerned. Sirius had told him loads of stories about him dad and mum. It had been repeatedly stressed that Lily Evans had been Muggleborn, and Harry knew Sirius would never lie to him. His mum had been one hell of a witch, from Sirius' and Remus' accounts. The standard line from Tim's mouth, that all "Mudbloods" were bad, was not true. Harry wouldn't let him lie any more.

Pansy was the leader of the Slytherin girls in their form and exerted a powerful influence in the younger years as well as a limited presence amongst the uppers. She said nothing about Harry's outburst, but Harry noticed that her use of the vicious word "Mudblood" tapered off. Pansy was always more inclined to talk about her fellow students anyway.

Crabbe and Goyle always followed everything Draco did. Millie and Jenna had never really ranted like Tim or Draco before. Jenna cared more about having a good time than anything else. Millie had always spoken against Muggles, not saying much about Muggleborns.

While Hannah almost certainly heard about Harry's outburst, the outing on the lake was very low-key. The four students shared lots of laughs and had a most delightful time. They didn't see any mer-people, but they did meet up with the giant squid. Susan and Hannah egged Harry on as Draco dared him to tickle its tentacles. Draco nearly fell overboard from sheer mirth, but the squid caught him and pushed him back in.

Sunday evening was quiet in the common room. Blaise was nowhere to be found as Harry and Draco described their day to Pansy, Jenna, Crabbe, Goyle, and Millie. Tim was welcome only if he kept his mouth shut, and when he didn't, Harry sternly asked him to leave. Incredulity written all over his face, Tim had stomped off to the dorm. He was fast asleep when the other boys went to bed.

* * *

Monday morning came entirely too soon. Harry groggily shambled to the shower and turned the spray on full blast. The shock of hot water snapped him in to focus. Only a few of the fourth years were taking Care of Magical Creatures, so Friday morning was going to be a bit of a lay-in. As he ran the soap across his chest, Harry wondered how long it would take him to unlearn his practice of rising early for Quidditch practices.

As long as he was awake, he might as well head up to breakfast early. He wondered if any of the others would rise earlier than absolutely necessary. At least two Slytherins (usually Crabbe and Goyle) always skidded in to breakfast with minutes to spare. Harry had done it more than once himself.

In the common room, Laine and Ginny were bent over a magazine. As Harry approached to wish them a good morning, he saw that it was the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly, a new publication that dealt only with the noblest of all wizarding sports. Viktor Krum's scowling face looked up at them, but the girls were smiling.

"He was so fabulous at the World Cup," Laine gushed. "I love Quidditch stars. Wasn't he just great, catching the Snitch to save his team some face? That's something a Slytherin would do."

"Trust me, I heard loads about how great Krum is," Ginny replied sourly. "All summer, Krum this, Krum that. Ron was positively smitten with the bloke."

"Is Ron a poof?" Harry asked with a completely straight face.

Ginny giggled. "No, not as far as I know, and trust me I would know. He just likes Krum. He was absolutely awful all summer. It's nice to be back at school."

"Was he so insufferable?" Harry inquired.

"First it was that he didn't get to go to the World Cup. Then it was because Bill and Charlie and Percy took me and not him. Nevermind that he hates Percy. Nevermind that I never get to see him since he moved out. Nevermind that the twins weren't going either. Suddenly it was all about Ron and how pathetic he is."

"Must've been a long conversation," Harry quipped, making Laine giggle.

"Oh, he went on about how he never gets to have anything nice, as if owning a lot of junk makes you a better person." Ginny sounded very scornful of her sibling. "Mum started shouting at him then, and he stormed out of the house. It was pretty amusing until she laid in to me."

"You?" Harry was surprised. "Why would she row at you?"

"She said I shouldn't be winding him up. I barely mentioned it at all."

"Why did she get so upset?" Harry had an inkling of how much grief Ginny had probably had to deal with from her brothers, but he hadn't considered how her parents were treating her. Not having parents of his own, he couldn't imagine that they would treat her with anything other than complete and total love.

"Things haven't been all that well with me and mum lately," Ginny said with a sigh. "She's still on me about deciding to become a Slytherin."

"Be strong, Ginny," Laine said encouragingly. "If Percy can do it, so can you."

"Percy also got strung up on the Astronomy Tower. Mum understood that, and it was only for a year and a half, so she let it go. But she was dead-set that I was going to remain a Gryffindor."

Harry hadn't really looked after Ginny much once he'd pawned her off on the second year girls. She'd settled quietly into Slytherin house, but he'd barely spared her a thought. To be fair, Harry had been rather occupied with thoughts of avenging the betrayal of his parents all through last year. Suddenly, Harry felt a stab of guilt. He'd merely noted that Ginny was wearing a green and silver tie and let it pass. The times he'd seen her over the summer, at his birthday party and at the Quidditch World Cup, there hadn't been a lot of time for meaningful dialogue. She had seemed happy enough.

"Was it so hard to switch?" Harry asked. "I knew old McGonagall gave you grief at the end of your first year, but she didn't seem to say much last year."

"Only until about Christmas. I don't know why she eventually laid off, but I'm glad she did. There wasn't anything she could do about where I chose to sleep. She took plenty of points from me for going to all the Slytherin classes. I served lots of nasty detentions, too. She really twigged about the tie, though. First Transfiguration class, she switched the colours on me. Any points I did manage to earn she made sure to specify were for Gryffindor. She got really nasty when she started deducting points from Slytherin for my attitude."

"So that's why we didn't win the House Cup last year," Harry said slyly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "This was all your idea, Potter, so I don't want to hear it."

Harry grinned at her. "That's the spirit, Weasley."

Laine giggled, and Ginny gave Harry a few more seconds of sternness before joining in.

"Good morning, Harry," came a cheerful voice. "Slater, Weasley."

"Hi, Blaise," Harry said. "You're up early."

"So are you."

"I play Quidditch."

"Not this year."

"Force of habit. What's your excuse?"

"Got up for a drink of water and couldn't get back to sleep over Jenna's snoring."

"Jenna doesn't snore!" Harry protested.

"When do you watch her sleep, Harry?" Ginny asked slyly.

"In History of Magic class."

Laine and Ginny both laughed. Blaise frowned at them.

"Would you like to go up to breakfast, Harry?"

"I was on my way there when I saw this pair. I never did get around to my point. Laine, Ginny, I hate to eat alone." He hadn't quite intended to invite both girls up to breakfast, but Harry would do anything to avoid giving Blaise the impression that they were dating.

"Sure," Ginny said a bit too quickly. "I'm famished."

Harry imagined he must be quite the sight, entering the Great Hall with three pretty girls. Ginny's brother looked furious at seeing her with Harry, but she twirled her wand through her fingers confidently. Ron stayed in his seat, stabbing viciously at his scrambled eggs.

Draco and Pansy came in a short time later holding hands. They stopped to exchange some whispered words before coming to their seats. Pansy smiled and placed a peck of a kiss on Draco's cheek. They sat down across from Harry, who had Laine and Ginny on his left and Blaise on his right.

Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle came charging in, quickly taking seats. "We've been here with you the whole time," Millie said breathlessly.

"What've you been doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"Instigating," Goyle grunted, stabbing at a kipper.

"Instigating?" Ginny asked. "Nice one. Four syllables."

What they'd been instigating was quickly revealed as breakfast was livened by a shouting match between the upper form Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The insults hurled by Ravenclaw were obscure, but Hufflepuff fought back with spirit. Harry never did get the straight of what had started it all, and neither Millie nor her co-conspirators would divulge the details. By the time they were ready to head to Ancient Runes, wands were being drawn and challenges issued. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Babbling moved in at that point to break things up.

The class waited quite awhile with no teacher. They lounged back in their chairs and speculated at who would be chosen as Hogwarts champion. Draco was in the middle of running Gryffindor in to the ground to Amy Geagan and Chrissy Golding when the door opened and a very dishevelled Professor Babbling arrived leading the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who were scowling at each other.

"Oh my, what a brawl!" Babbling dropped her bag heavily on the desk and sat down on the edge. "Forget the lesson. How many of you went to the World Cup? I went early and didn't speak English for two weeks. It was extremely liberating, but it's good to be home."

They discussed the strange wizards they'd seen and the strange languages they'd heard. Babbling was telling about an encounter with a group of Valosian vampires who'd been interested in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs when the bell rang, and the Slytherins and Gryffindors were off to Potions.

Harry fell back a bit to walk beside Draco. "Hang up a second," he said. "I've got to tie my shoe."

Draco nodded. "We'll catch up."

As the others fell out of earshot, Draco threw Harry an inquisitive glance. "What's going on?"

"I don't want to work with Blaise." It didn't get plainer than that. She made him uncomfortable, and potion-making was not something one did while distracted. Until he could resolve the situation with her, he didn't want to partner her, in any class.

"So don't." Draco made it sound impossibly easy.

"You're serious. How? If I tell her I don't want to be her Potions partner, I'll hurt her feelings. But I can't explain myself without bringing up that I don't want to date her and hurting her feelings again."

"You don't have to say anything," Draco said confidently. "Girls understand non-verbal messages. They'll often imagine them even when you're not sending them. I say you just walk in and sit down next to me. Blaise will see that and understand and there's no need for awkward conversations."

"What about Pansy? Won't she read the same message from you?"

"If she does, so what? Let them work together. We've worked with the same partners for three years now. Things change. Let's just do it."

"Just do it?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Now you sound like a Gryffindor."

"Oh, I hate you. But I'll do it, if you will."

"You know what? Sure. Why not?" Harry suddenly felt totally reckless. Once his brain had processed Draco's idea, there seemed like nothing more suitable. He'd tried to be nice about things with Blaise, and she hadn't gotten the message. It was time to be a little more direct.

"Really?" Draco asked. "Okay. Yeah, we'll just go in and sit down. There's always spare benches. We'll have to work closer to Weasley, but no plan is perfect."

"Go in, sit down," Harry repeated. Go in, sit down.

"Right then. We don't want to be late."

Both Slytherins and Gryffindors were seated, waiting for Professor Snape to emerge from his office. Blaise and Pansy both sat alone with an empty seat, chatting quietly. Harry walked right past them and sat at an empty bench. He reached into his bag as Draco sat next to him. They took out their quills, ink, and parchment with almost rigid synchronization. They both stared firmly ahead as gasps of disbelief came from all around them.

Blaise slowly stood up, watching the back of Harry's head incredulously. When he didn't turn, she let out a mournful wail and ran from the classroom, leaving her books and cauldron behind.

Pansy, stunned in to silence by Draco's action, watched Blaise flee with interest, and her calculating eyes studied Draco intently. He turned back slightly and winked at her. Pansy smiled to herself. It was downright Slytherin.

"Very well, Jenna, get yourself over here," Pansy said in the sudden silence.

Harry would have thanked Merlin, but was afraid his voice might fail him. Pansy hadn't batted an eye. She'd read the message he was sending Blaise and had correctly interpreted the message Draco had sent her. By acting completely casual, Pansy had told Harry that she approved of what he'd done.

Jenna picked up her bag and moved to sit in the empty chair next to Pansy. She was smiling brightly, but there was no further opportunity for conversation as Snape arrived and the lecture began.

Blaise did not return to class, nor did she join them for lunch. She skivved on History of Magic as well, only reappearing for a double period of Herbology. She joined Crabbe and Goyle at a work bench and didn't look up at the others.

Harry felt like scum he would scrape off of his shoe. He'd really hurt Blaise's feelings. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He hated having to put Blaise through this, but he'd made his wishes known to her. He couldn't help how she felt about him. Harry only wanted to be friends, but she was making it impossible.

* * *

Their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Mad-Eye Moody's Defence Against the Dark Arts. To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"You can't do that!" Draco protested loudly "It's illegal!"

Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "Auror trainees get put under it. High security Ministry positions require proven resistance to Imperius. Not the Minister, which is foolishness, but there you are. Most of you won't go in to the Ministry, but you'll wield influence all the same. That sort of influence can be swayed with the word of command. Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like and to learn to resist as much as you can. If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're dismissed." He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door.

"No, sir," Draco said quickly. "I don't like the idea of anyone controlling my thoughts."

Professor Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Crabbe and Goyle both proved quite adept at ballet. Blaise imitated a squirrel. Millie tried for a whole minute to walk up the wall. Tim loudly proclaimed his secret addiction to Muggle television and his fondness for Doctor Who. Pansy dipped her quill in ink and began writing all over her own face. Draco started reading from the textbook, speaking in a boorish American accent. Jenna balanced perfectly on the back of her chair, perched like an owl. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk. Jump onto the desk.

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

Jump onto the desk.

Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

Jump onto the desk.

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly. No, I don't really want to.

Jump! NOW!

The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping. The result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double.

"Look at that, you lot!" Moody crowed. "Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention. Watch his eyes; that's where you see it. Very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

Everyone was suitably impressed with Harry's strength of will. Harry was quite surprised at himself, for after four times in a row, he was able to throw off the curse entirely. There was just something offensive about being compelled against his will. Flushed with success and nursing sore knees, Harry limped to double Transfiguration where not even McGonagall's double dose of homework could ruin his mood.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education," she told them in response to a collective groan, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer, and I will not have you embarrass me before the Ministry officials who administer the tests. You have two short school years remaining in which to learn difficult magic that continues to elude some of you. Mister Nott remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. Mister Crabbe, Mister Goyle, I might remind you that your pincushions still curl up in fright if anyone approaches them with a pin!"

McGonagall was not the only teacher to pile on the homework. All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. It was a bit overwhelming, really, to have homework from all of their classes at one time. There was so much work to keep current on that Harry nearly forgot about the the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.

Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Harry didn't know how the knowledge of sneaky goblin tricks would help him in the future, but he dutifully paid close attention.

Professor Snape had them reading up on antidotes. They took this seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. While it would undoubtedly be a Gryffindor he poisoned, surely a Slytherin's antidote would be called upon to save him. If it didn't work, they might earn a less than perfect mark.

Professor Sinistra had begun to teach them how the movements of the heavens, which they'd studied for three years now, could affect the casting of magic. They were regularly buried in phase charts, tables of angles and degrees, and galactic diagrams. The mathematics involved was easier now that they'd had geometry with Professor Vector, but Harry still got lost quite often.

Professor Vector was now introducing them to algebra, which Harry despaired over mastering. Tim, to no one's surprise, had quickly surpassed everyone in grasping the fundamentals of maths. They hadn't yet begun applying the theories of Arithmancy, but Vector had promised them that there was a practical portion to the O.W.L..

Professor Babbling had completely moved on from the Norse Futhark. Now they were starting in on Celtic runes. Their lessons were just as tedious as the previous year, and from what they'd heard, fifth year was more of the same with Germanic. And those were the easier languages! In sixth year, Professor Babbling had promised them Hebrew.

Hagrid had apparently gone off the deep end, because Millie brought back word from Care of Magical Creatures that they were now caring for something he called Blast-Ended Skrewts, some sort of illegal cross between Manticores and Fire Crabs.

"Someone ought to report him to the Ministry," she declared. "They spit fire and such!"

"I thought you liked animals," Jenna teased her.

"I do, but not monsters! Do you believe he invited us down on alternate evenings to observe the things and take notes?"

"I might do that," Goyle said. "I think the Skrewts are pretty cool. Illegal or not, Professor Hagrid's made a good crossbreed."

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms. They immediately headed for the library before all the copies were checked out.

Professor Sprout's lessons were all about the Upas tree. Legend held that it produced narcotic and toxic fumes which killed plants and animals for miles around. If one were to fall asleep in the shade of this tree, she warned her rapt audience, he would never awaken. Malaysians had supposedly executed prisoners by tying them to the trunk of this great tree.

Pansy promptly declared her intent to dispose of Tim in this manner, setting off a storm of bickering that eventually drew in Draco as well. Blaise leapt to Tim's defence, and in the end, it was only their arrival at the library that quieted everyone. Tim and Blaise stalked away from the group, while Draco and Pansy smooched to forget their irritation. Jenna and Millie had both spun around, hugging themselves, running their hands up and down, making highly exaggerated kissing noises. Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle had all snorted with laughter, but Pansy had haughtilly sat down and opened her books. Jenna joined her, and they all turned to Charms.

to be continued...