That's What Friends Are For

Chapter Three: So What About the New Teacher?

The first week at Hogwarts passed, leaving a string of bedraggled first years in its wake. Even the older students found the first week back at school a bit trying, as they readjusted to classes and schedules after a whole summer of freedom.

And, of course, there was the matter of the new professor.

Harry and his friends had their introduction to Feye's DADA class first thing on Tuesday morning, stomachs still heavy with food from the night before and with dread of the upcoming lesson. With the fourth year Ravenclaws, they entered the long hallway that led to the classroom, then shuffled in a bit nervously and sat down at the desks.

The professor was sitting at the large desk at the head of the room-- well, sitting in the chair next to it, at least. His booted feet were resting on the desk, and he leaned casually back in his chair, eyeing each student to come in as if they were some new type of dessert he was eager to eat.

On the exact minute that classes were to begin, he made a gesture with his wand and the heavy classroom door slammed shut with a bang, making all the students jump.

"I don't appreciate tardiness," he growled. "The door to class will be locked to latecomers. Understood?"

The students nodded mutely. Seemingly satisfied, Feye got up from his chair and came around to the front of the desk, leaning back against it with his arms crossed.

"You are all here to learn what may very well be the most practical subject you ever study. I am here to force my knowledge of said subject into your young and impressionable minds.

"Now, as long as you remember that your role of student does not mean you're allowed to be insubordinate, foolish, lazy, or wasteful of my time, I'll remember that my role of teacher does not allow me to screw with your young and impressionable minds, or slam you face first into walls until you stop twitching. And we'll get along famously. Nod if you all caught that, or do I need to repeat anything?"

More mute nods from around the room. Feye grinned suddenly. "Excellent. Let's begin with roll, shall we?

"Adams, Evan..."

The roll call progressed without incident until he reached 'Granger, Hermione.' He stopped and looked up from the parchment, his glasses catching the light. "Miss Granger. I've heard quite a bit about you."

Hermione tried simultaneously to sink lower into her chair and sit up straighter. Who could he have 'heard quite a bit' about her from? Snape. Which meant the things he'd heard were no doubt highly unflattering.

Feye's pale eyes were fixed on her with a unwavering stare. "The resident Muggle-born genius."

Oh, great. Another sarcastic teacher that thinks I'm a little know-it-all... thank you so much, Professor Snape, Hermione thought sadly.

And then Feye smiled inexplicably. "Well, from one Muggle-born to another, Miss Granger, non illigitamus carborundum. Don't let the bastards grind you down."

Hermione blinked. She was unsure what had her more surprised-- the fact that the man had just seemed to say something nice to her, or the admission that he was Muggle-born. Now was she alone in her startlement. There was a murmur of whispers and surprise throughout the room.

Feye rolled his eyes. "Lord, students never change, do they? Yes, I am Muggle-born-- a mudblood, if any of you are so tasteless and senseless to refer to us in that manner-- and I'm not ashamed of the fact, as some people seem to think I should be. Now, if we're all quite through giggling, whispering, and carrying-on, may I please continue with the roll?"

The students settled down, though a few regarded the professor in a different and more charitable light. Feye continued down the list of names, pausing every so often to say something to a particular student, often something about their parents or relatives that he'd taught.

And then he came to Harry Potter. After reading the name, he cleared his throat and looked up at Harry, who unknowingly imitated Hermione's reaction. Great, I'm sure Snape's just told him all about me...

Feye regarded him thoughtfully, resting his chin in one hand and tapping the roll of parchment idly against his elbow.

"Taught your mother as well, Mr. Potter. Lily Christine Evans... now there was a character," he said with an unreadable expression. "And now I'm teaching her... son. Hah. Christ, but that makes me feel old." Feye shook his head, then moved on to the next name on the list.

Harry shot a 'what-am-I-supposed-to-make-of-that' glance at Ron, but his friend only shrugged.

"Rawlings, Christopher..."

Feye finished the roll call eventually, then set the parchment down and turned back to the class. He lifted the hefty volume entitled The Standard Guide to Dark Curses And Countering Them: A Comprehensive Approach, which had been listed as their textbook for this year. The students inwardly groaned but pulled out their own copies, waiting to be told what page to turn to.

Valence thumbed through a few pages of the book, his eyebrows arching in a highly unimpressed fashion. After a few seconds, he let out an dismissive snort and stalked over to one of the classroom windows. The students watched as he wrenched the window open, then unceremoniously tossed the book out of it.

"....Right. You can do whatever you want with your own copies, but considering your parents probably paid ridiculous sums for them, you'd be better off taking them back, or reselling them or what not," Feye grunted, moving back to his desk. Some of the students laughed, then quickly cut it off, looking apprehensively at the stern professor.

But he was looking at them with a slightly twisted smile. "You can laugh, you know-- I'm not that much of a bastard, children. Contrary to popular report and my own habits of scaring the hell out of my students."

A few more students laughed this time, and the atmosphere in the classroom visibly lightened. Feye grinned maliciously, and then without warning started casting curses on everyone in the front two rows.

"All right-- confundo-- you all start-- obscuro visum-- finding someone who's cursed, diagnose what ever it is they're cursed with-- aggredo-- and figure out how to lift it. Petrifico. Well? Your classmates are depending on you! Hypnos. I hope to Christ you're not all going to stand-- horrificus extremus-- around like this when Death Eaters are attacking! Frigidus. Come on, MOVE yourselves, students!"

The class dissolved into chaos as the hexed students began acting in whatever fashion their respective curses demanded, and the non-hexed students tried to take cover.

Feye leaned back against his desk and grinned, though he never stopped barking out orders. "Come on, come on, you lot can do better than this. Bloody fourth years, hiding under the desks! Climb out from under there, you Gryffies are supposed to be brave, aren't you? And you! Ravenclaws! Get those vaunted brains together and act, you little ninnies! Your fellow students need help! The teachers are elsewhere! Lives depend on you! Get cracking!"

"But-- but, s-sir, we don't know how to break most of these--"

"Then LEARN! And quickly. Come on, think! What's the most common way to end a spell of any sort?!"

"F-finite incantatem..."

"So TRY it, for the love of God!... Bleeding hell, I'm damn well saddled with imbeciles..."

Slowly, the non-hexed students did indeed begin to rally. Unconsciously, certain students began giving orders to the less-together ones, and pairs of students would approach one of the cursed ones cautiously, prepared to hold them down if they had to. In most cases, it was obvious what had been cast.

Some of the curses did indeed respond to the general 'finite'; others were more specific. 'Frigidus', for example, required a heating charm to counteract the cold. One by one, the ratio of normal students increased.

In less time than the fourth years would have thought possible, the class was over. Feye stopped them all and lifted the last few curses that remained unbroken. "All right, children. That's enough for today. Fair warning-- we may be doing these sort of drills often, and you're all going to have to damn well improve. Took you lot an hour to lift fifteen curses. Hopeless, and that's verifiable... No homework-- it'd obviously be taxing your feeble minds overmuch-- but I expect better and quicker results in the future! Got that, bratlings?"

Dazed students nodded, most nerves more than a bit frazzled. Feye grinned and said, "All right, get out of my classroom. I have you again on, what, next Tuesday? Ruddy lovely-- a week for the students to forget everything they've learned... Go!"

The students fled.

~|~*V/*~|~

By the end of the week, student opinion about Feye was divided. His largest contingent of supporters came from Ravenclaw House, who mostly adored him. That is, once they got over initial hesitation and his habit of conducting classes that were without a doubt the most chaotic any of them had ever endured-- well, with the possible exception of Rubeus Hagrid's ill-fated "Creatures" course...

The Hufflepuffs (who had the class jointly, with the Slytherins) entered his classes in uniform terror. Valence Feye displayed the canine skill of being able to sense fear, and with wicked glee proceeded to replace Snape as Hufflepuff House's least favourite teacher.

It was the Gryffindors and Slytherins who found the class most trying to their preconceptions. Contrary to the fears of one house and expectations of the other, the former Slytherin Head showed not a bit of the partiality that seemed to characterize his successor.

This resulted in a good half of Slytherin House (specifically the Malfoy-type and hangers-on) quite loathing the professor, but at a loss in where to turn to complain since their own Head of House was obviously on good terms with the man.

It also meant that a lot of Gryffindors became quite fond of Feye, mostly the more intelligent ones. Hermione got into a discussion of magical/Muggle theory with him in the hallway at lunch on Wednesday, and spent the rest of the week telling anyone who would listen that the man was brilliant.

Harry and Ron didn't yet see the appeal, but acknowledged the class was much better than they had thought it might be. Snape's friend or not, Feye paid no more attention-- either positive or negative-- to Harry than he did to anyone else.

Two students who decidedly did not get along with Feye were the Weasley twins. They had not taken his injunction against 'screwing around' seriously, and plotted to set off a Zonko's Amazing Bomb of Ogre Stench in their first class.

Somehow, Feye had seemed to know exactly what they'd been planning ("Sneaky," grumbled George, later. "Damn unnerving," added Fred) and had not been amused. He'd taken their wands and the bomb, then led the pair into the corridor, that had a conveniently located broom closet right next door to the classroom. He'd ordered the twins in-- they had gone with resigned shrugs; there were worse punishments than being shut in a cupboard-- --and then he'd tossed in the bomb after them. And locked them in with it.

Two boys with red hair and green faces were let out of the cupboard an hour later, with injunctions not to forget the lesson learned that day-- or to forget that the bomb had caused Gryffindor to lose five points.

Needless to say, the Weasley twins harbored a grudge. Also needless to say, they behaved in future classes-- or at least plotted their subterfuges more carefully...

But they were not the only ones who had gotten caught 'wasting time.' It was quite uncanny, how Feye seemed to know what students were plotting, unfailingly. If they'd thought Snape had a sixth sense for trouble...

"But at least he's fair," Dean Thomas had pointed out to a sulking George. "Just as hard on the Slyths as anyone else. Hell, maybe harder."

And that was true. If a student of another House was slow to get something in class, it earned them a lecture. If one of the Serpent´s House did so, he seemed to take it as nothing less than a personal insult, and pity the Slytherin that displeased him so. The taking of House points, which he did without compunction, was nothing compared to the blistering tongue-lashings he could deliver.

All in all, Feye was making quite an impression.

~|~*V/*~|~

Knock knock.

"Severus? Can I come in?"

The Potions Master looked up from the stack of essays he was grading, damning red ink scrawled liberally across the current mediocre paper, and smiled. Valence was always welcome-- and knew it-- but the man never neglected to ask.

"Enter at will, Valence. But be warned-- I'm grading some spectacularly awful papers and am in a foul mood."

"Ah. A change from your usual sunny disposition how, exactly?" said Feye with his mad grin, peering around the edge of the door as he opened it carefully. Severus snorted.

"Oh, get in here. I shall abstain from the throwing of inkwells at your greying head, despite the pleasure I'd gain from the act," Snape muttered, marking a heavy red line through a particularly terrible sentence.

Valence grinned wider and moved to the chair in front of his colleague's desk, flopping into it with an utter lack of grace. Severus registered it with fond amusement; Feye was a man capable of more contradictions than anyone he'd ever met.

A Muggle-born Slytherin. Yet even the 'mudblood' lineage was not strictly correct; there was old blood there, old wizarding blood in the name Feye... and the power that came with it.

He was a highly educated man, and not just in the ways of wizards; the two doctoral degrees (one in Mathematics and one in Ancient History) from the Muggle university of Oxford held as great a place of pride as the full Warlock status from the Academe Magike. Severus knew Feye spoke at least six languages-- yet was content to bark and drawl in the lower-class accents of his humble birth. And to pretend ignorance when he possessed no such bliss.

A master manipulator (one could not survive Slytherin House, much less being its Head, without being so) who preferred to let people believe he was tactless, dim, obstinate, and subtle as a slab of meat.

The contradictions extended even to appearance; wearing the Muggle spectacles rather than use a simple spell to fix his vision. Dressing in impeccable and expensive suits-- and flopping into furniture with absolutely no regard for dignity or the fabric he wore.

More contradictions than anyone Snape had ever known.

Save for possibly himself.

"What year, Sev?" drawled the man, and it took Severus a moment to understand the question.

"Ah, third years. Gryffindor and Slytherins. Hell, in other words," he snarled, using the quill to draw a huge, simple 'X' over the whole of one parchment. In the margin, he inscribed in his razor-precise handwriting, Do the whole thing over. This is trash, and set the essay in the graded pile.

"Speaking of Slytherins..." Feye began, helping himself to both an empty glass and the bottle of lunewine sitting on Snape's desk.

"Were we?" Snape asked, his lips twitching as he watched the silvery liquor fill the tumbler.

"Of course we were, Sev," Valence said smoothly. "Speaking of Slytherins... you've been spoiling your House, lad." The tone was casual; the tension of the hand on the glass and the serious, unwavering stare of the pale eyes were anything but.

Severus smirked. The Slytherin past-time of choice... the verbal duel. But he was ready for Valence, had known the subject would come up, and had his defence ready.

And offence, if necessary.

Look, lad, a younger Valence said in his mind, don´t you ever pull your punches. The other side sure as hell won´t, and then you´re playing at a disadvantage. Quickest way to lose is to give anything less than a 100%, and that´s a verifiable...

"I don´t know if I´d call it `spoiling,´ Valence," he said in an off-hand tone of voice, pretending to scrutinize the next essay.

"Really. Then what would you call favoring them so much they can´t even cope with a Slytherin professor not covering for them, not letting them cheat, not giving them all the answers? You´re teaching those children a very dangerous thing, Severus," Feye said quietly.

"They trust me," he replied simply.

"Ha. ...I don´t care what you tell the old fox to rationalize it, I´m Slytherin and you damned well know better. What´s the game?"

"You´re Slytherin-- so figure it out, professor."

"Don´t you start. Don´t you bloody start, laddie. All week, I´ve been dealing with little Slyths who don´t know the meaning of the word `discipline´-- and that´s your doing. Your fault. Explain."

"Or what? You´ll take house points from me? Or perhaps give me detention."

"Damn it, Severus. I´m asking you as a friend. Straight talk, if you can manage it."

"How very un-Slytherin of you, Valence... I think you are getting old."

An silence settled over the office. Severus ignored Valence´s angry glare and made another vicious comment on the paper he was grading. Which he hadn´t taken his eyes off of, during the whole conversation.

Finally he relented, setting down the quill and the parchment. He crossed his arms on the desk´s mahogany surface and leaned forward, matching Feye´s pale stare with his own dark one.

"Valence... Times change. Attitudes change. You were strict with us-- and it was good for many of us, I know. Lord knows I needed it.

"But not every Slytherin got the same thing out of it that I did. Most didn´t. You alienated far more of them than you helped. The times, Valence, the situation-- everyone already poking fingers at Slytherin House, painting us as monsters, as evils, as miniature Dark Lords in the making-- we didn´t need our own Head of House against us too."

"Damnit, I wasn´t against you, any of you! You know that-- I did my damndest for Slytherin House, every one of you all--"

"I know that. My housemates hardly saw it that way. You were harder on us than on any other students--"

"For your own good. You needed to be taught order, discipline, restraint--"

"But not like that. Gods above, Valence, it´s so easy-- you´re twelve years old, you´re in a House that everyone hates, everyone says you need punishment-- and the one person who´s supposed to be on your side takes thirty points from you and verbally rips you apart until you´re crying in class. What are you supposed to think? He--they--we were bound to hate you."

"Lucius Malfoy already had his own reasons for hating me, thank you very much--"

"Mudblood. Yes. Like I did, before you taught me otherwise. But don´t you see, how easily it could have been different? He was afraid of you for years-- but you could have turned that fear into respect, so easily. And so many others... I can´t help thinking. What might have been different. What might have changed. Had you told Lucius Malfoy, or Jonathan Avery, or Evan Rosier, just once, that they were worth something. Worth defending."

"Defen--? Christ´s blood. I was not about to let them get away with some of the shit they pulled! You´re saying I should have bloody well covered for them? With the other staff? Lied about their practicing the Dark on campus? Is that what you mean by `defending,´ Severus?!"

"No. No, I didn´t say that... but what if you had, just once? Stood up for them?"

"This is bollocks. Unmitigated bollocks. I´ll tell you what would have changed: nothing! Those Death Eaters would have grown up to be Death Eaters anyway."

"You don´t know that."

"... We are not having this argument, Sev. I did my best to keep them from the Dark--"

"And how well you succeeded. How well indeed," Snape murmured, staring down at his left forearm. "Marvelous results."

Valence was silent, and Severus realized what he´d said. He quickly looked back up, into the other man´s pained expression. "Oh, for the love of-- Valence, that was not-- I don´t blame you for my choices, and I never have. You didn´t make me a Death Eater, and you did more than your share to pull me back from it.

"My choices were mine, Valence. Please don´t think I hold you accountable."

Valence sighed. "All right, so it wasn´t my fault that you went over to the Dark Lord-- just my fault that all the others did. Do I understand your arguments correctly?"

"No. No. Merlin´s teeth, but you´re annoying. All that I´m trying to say, Valence, is that your way didn´t work. So I´m entitled to try mine. And if that doesn´t work either, well-- you can point at me and say I told you so. I promise."

Feye´s pale eyes narrowed skeptically. "It´s a dangerous line you´re trying to walk, Sev."

"Yes. It is."

"I hope to Christ you know what you´re doing."

"I rather doubt that He wants anything to do with Slytherin House, Valence."

Feye snorted and turned his attention to the glass of lunewine he held, downing the tumbler´s contents in one quick motion.

"Pour me some more of that, will you, and then finish grading those papers. I want to have time to beat you at chess at least twice tonight, before I hie me off to bed."

"Beat me? At chess? You delude yourself, old man," said Severus with a smile, and started to refill Valence´s glass.

"Set up the board."