Harry Potter and the Secret of Gairech

5. Leroux and Sesachar

Fortunately, when they got out of the train at Hogsmeade they didn't see anything to justify their anxiety. Everything was as it should be. It was raining hard, and a storm was brewing, but they could see Hagrid among the crowds of students, gathering up the first-years to take them across the lake in boats in accordance with the age-old Hogwarts tradition. The half-giant waved cheerfully to his friends and they waved back. At the gates the carriages were waiting, drawn by thestrals - black, bony horses with reptile-like skin and demons' wings. Their pupilless white eyes seemed to be staring at everything or nothing. Walking past, Harry patted the neck of the animal pulling their coach. Few other students could see the ghostly horses which pulled the carriages to the castle. They were only visible to people who had seen death. And, besides Harry, Neville and Luna were the only ones to greet the thestral. Although on the outside the animal looked frightening and downright ugly, the friends had a great respect for the winged horses.

They climbed into their coach and it set of immediately with the others. Harry stared out of the window, looking closely at the gigantic castle, but he saw nothing to arouse suspicion. It really did seem that everything was as normal. Even the rain and the storm were nothing out of the ordinary.

They entered Hogwarts through the enormous gateway and followed the crowds of students on their way to the Great Hall. They took their places at the Gryffindor table, and Luna went over to join the Ravenclaws. There was a general murmuring and whispering, mixed with happy chatter as friends met up for the first time since the holidays. Harry glanced over at the fifth large table - that of the teachers. Dolores Umbridge's chair was empty - the teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts changed with alarming frequency every year. And, just as always, the new teacher for this subject was nowhere to be seen.

However, Harry noticed another new face among the members of staff. He didn't seem to be occupying the place of another teacher, and Harry wondered what subject the stranger would teach. He was a tall, thin man with mid-length brown hair and prominent features. He was wearing a long robe, various shades of green, and a matching hat. His nose was a little too large for his face, and his appearance rather gawky.

"Who's that?" Harry asked Hermione, who was sitting next to him. She followed his gaze.

"That's Professor Pithormin Sesachar. But he must be here to teach a different subject - not one we've studied before. No one knows what it is. They seem to be making quite a secret of it."

"And who's going to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Ginny asked.

But before Hermione could answer there was an angry shout from outside, and the murmuring voices in the hall stopped abruptly. All eyes turned towards the entrance hall at the far end of the room, where the great double doors had been thrown open. The storm had sent a gust of wind and rain into the castle. The students could literally hear the raindrops hitting the newly polished marble. Filch the caretaker stood in the midst of the squall, tearing his hair out and turning red in the face as he stared with a mixture of boundless fury and blank horror at the culprit who had just walked in.

Everyone present watched with interest as a hooded figure in a dark cloak stepped past the seething caretaker into the Great Hall. There was now complete silence. Everyone watched the figure of the stranger until it reached the raised staff table and pulled off its hood, revealing long, aubergine hair which hung in a plait over the its shoulder.

"Ah, Professor Leroux!" Albus Dumbledore jumped up from his chair and cheerfully clapped his hands. "I was afraid you'd be late. But you've arrived just in time - please, take a seat."

Professor Leroux nodded to the headmaster and stepped up to the only free chair, pulling off her cloak. She was a woman - a remarkably beautiful woman, thought Harry, who was looking at her curiously. She was nothing like any of the other teachers they had had for Defence Against the Dark Arts, who had all been...eccentric in their own way. Quirrel with his gigantic turban and his stammer, Lockhart with his glamour and self-satisfaction, Lupin with his dilapidated appearance, Mad Eye Moody (admittedly the impostor) with his frankly repugnant appearance and finally Professor Umbridge, the most ghastly teacher Harry could remember, who happened to look like the human version of an exceptionally ugly toad.

Professor Leroux was really beautiful. Her long, full hair played about her soft features and her blue eyes were receptive and warm. She had taken off her dirty cloak to reveal a royal blue suit. Gracefully she took her place next to Professor Snape. The last person to appear was Hagrid. He had given the first-years their traditional welcome and brought them across the lake, which meant that now they were waiting nervously behind the door, ready to enter into the unknown. And then they came, marching two by two between the students' tables, pale and scared. Professor McGonagall walked ahead of them with the Sorting Hat in her hand, which she then laid on a stool. Every eye was fixed on the ugly lump of felt, patched up in numerous places, until a crease in the hat opened into a mouth, and it began to sing.

An age ago they built this school

Within these walls so strong.

They thought that it would never fall

Throughout the ages long.

The Dark Ages, they called those years -

They could not have foretold

The pain, the sorrow and the fears

That our future will hold.

Take heed, for never is the night

Far from the light of morrow.

And every age will bring delight

But also pain and sorrow.

Now friendship counts, as you must know,

In every time of strife.

Saves you from greed and hatred, so

By this means, saves your life.

It seems you are divided yet

Into your houses four.

But at the time of reck'ning, let

Divisions be no more.

If you to Slytherin I send

Ambitious, cunning soul

Your blood is' pure', but in the end

You're but part of a whole.

In Ravenclaw a brilliant mind,

Hard work might be your creed,

But yet through teamwork you should find

Your path in times of need.

In Hufflepuff you try your best

You'll always help a friend.

And persevere; put to the test

You're faithful to the end.

And while in Gryffindor you're known

For courage, it would seem

Another virtue you have shown:

Your loyalty to the team.

In short, your way ahead is clear.

With rivalry be done.

For in this team I mention here

Four houses work as one.

Beware: dark times are on their way

So take heed of my song.

Now put me on, and I will say

In which house you belong.

"Another warning," Hermione murmured, and Ginny nodded. Harry looked silently at the hat, which had now stopped speaking. Yet again it had urged them to unite at the start of a school year, and to look beyond the boundaries of their houses. In the past year they had taken the first step with the formation of Dumbledore's Army, as this was a community consisting of students from three houses. And he was surer now than ever that Hermione was right when she said they should finally start making contact with the Slytherins.

Minerva McGonagall had stepped forward with a scroll of parchment in her hands and started to read out the names of the first-years. "Ashley, Desma."

A dark-skinned girl stepped hesitantly out of the group and sat down equally hesitantly on the chair. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head, and within a few moments it had sorted her into Hufflepuff. Applause rang out at the Hufflepuff table. "Boran, Selman." Slytherin. "Bugalski, Priska." Ravenclaw. "Button, Myriam." Hufflepuff. "Calvente, Sonya." Gryffindor... And so it continued, until the last student - Ronny Zorn, Slytherin - had been sorted.

Then, once all the first-years had joined the tables of their new houses, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and cleared his throat. Immediately there was complete silence in the Great Hall. Smiling, the headmaster looked down across the rows of pupils.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before the banquet starts, I'd like to say a few words. I'd like to remind the first-years - as I do every year - that anyone who enters the Forbidden Forest will be severely punished, and probably not only by us. So keep as far away from it a possible. I would also like to introduce two new members of staff." With his right hand he gestured towards Professor Leroux at the edge of the table. She didn't seem to be listening - in fact her whole attention was focussed on... Harry raised his eyebrows in astonishment... Professor Snape. He, however, seemed completely unaware of the fact that the new teacher was practically devouring him with her eyes, and was staring in front of him, lost in thought.

"Firstly I'd like to welcome Professor Améthyste Leroux into our midst. This year she will be your teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

At the mention of her name, Professor Leroux woke up from her apparent daydream, and conscientiously raised her head to give the pupils a friendly nod.

"And secondly," this time Dumbledore pointed to his left, "I would like to introduce Professor Pithormin Sesachar. However, only the older students will have the pleasure of attending his classes. His subject Certamensis will only be taught to the fifth-year and above." A murmur went through the room. "But that's enough talking. Thank you for your attention."

Dumbledore clapped his hands and instantly the tables were sagging under the weight of mountains of delicacies, which the students tucked into ravenously.

Harry took a helping of potatoes. "What's Certamensis?" he asked. To his surprise it was not Hermione but Ginny who answered.

"It's a more advanced form of duelling," she explained. "As far as I know, the subject hasn't been taught at Hogwarts for over three hundred years."

"And why not?" asked Dean Thomas, who was sitting next to her and eagerly heaping meatballs onto his plate.

"Because it's too dangerous."

All the students within earshot of Ginny immediately fixed their eyes on her, and she shifted nervously on the bench. "Well, I've heard that there were a lot of injuries... and not only that."

"Buh ififo dangeruf, whyur they gonna teash it 'gain?" mumbled Ron with his mouth full.

They exchanged glances. Everyone knew the answer without speaking it. But finally Hermione voiced their thoughts, although she spoke only in a whisper. "Voldemort..." A few students jumped at the sound of his name, a few moaned with horror, but many nodded in solemn agreement.

"Dumbledore must have his reasons for bringing back this subject after so many years," Ginny murmured.

Harry pushed away his half-eaten plate of food. Somehow he had lost his appetite. "That means he fears the worst, and that Hogwarts isn't as safe as it was before." He couldn't help remembering the incident with the harpies.

Hermione nodded. "That's what it looks like. At least, he seems to want to prepare us... as far as that's possible."

***

After the meal, Hermione and Ron showed the first-years into the common room. The rest of the Gryffindors followed some time later and made their way to their dormitories, where their luggage had been arranged for them. Harry slung his cloak onto his bed and went back out for a moment to see if Hermione was still awake. She had just showed the new girls to their dormitory and was on her way to her own. When she saw Harry she turned around and came back down the steps towards him.

He grinned at her. "I just wanted to say good night."

"Then do," she smiled, ignoring the giggling first-years, who were standing in the gallery, too excited to sleep, and watching the two of them. Their giggling grew louder when Harry pulled Hermione to him and kissed her. Ginny, who was just coming into the common room with Dean through the hole in the portrait, grinned broadly and waved at the younger girls. "Just you wait - in a few year's time other people will be giggling when they see you with a boy."

"Never!" protested one of the girls, Sonya Calvante, who had been the first in that year group to be sorted into Gryffindor. "I'll never have anything to do with boys. They're all stupid."

The four older students exchanged amused glances. "We'll see what you say in four year's time," said Hermione, pulling away from Harry. "Good night."

"Good night," he smiled, watching the girls disappear into their dormitory. Next to him, Dean grinned mischievously and dug him in the ribs. "Thanks, mate. I've just won my bet with Barny and Theodore."

Harry looked at him, puzzled. "What bet?"

"Barny said Hermione would choose Krum. I didn't agree and I betted on you. And Theodore..."

"You make bets about stuff like that?" Harry exclaimed aghast. "Are you mad?"

Dean burst out laughing. "Well... don't you?"

Harry looked at him as if his classmate had just turned into a ghost. "No. Whatever gave you that idea?" He shook his head. "I'm going to bed." Dean could hardly suppress a laugh as he watched him go.

6. Certamensis

The next morning, Harry arrived at breakfast a little later than his classmates. "Where have you been?" Hermione asked, sliding along the bench to make room for him.

Harry reached for the bread and jam. "Professor McGonagall wanted to speak to me..."

"Less than twenty-four hours here and you've already got yourself into trouble?" joked Ron, who was sitting opposite him and gulping down large helpings of porridge.

"It had to do with the Quidditch team," Harry grinned.

Ron stared at him, hastily swallowed another spoonful of porridge and then leant forward. "Don't tell me you're...?"

"The new team captain?" Ginny guessed, grinning as broadly as Harry, who nodded.

"Man, that's the limit!" Ron almost swept his plate from the table as he gave his friend a pat on the back. "Although...I wouldn't have said no either..." He winked.

"You're already a prefect," teased Neville. "Isn't that enough to be getting on with?"

"It was obvious that Harry would be the new team captain," said Ginny. "He's the oldest..." Ron coughed and she corrected herself, "I mean, he's been in the team for longest. He has the most experience."

"Yep, that's right," said Dean, leaning towards them. "The Slytherins weren't thinking about that, though, judging by the person they chose."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please don't say that it's..."

"'Fraid so," Dean nodded. "Of all people."

"Malfoy?" Harry sighed. "Wow... That'll be fun..."

"Fun?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "You mean when you knock him off his broomstick mid-flight?"

Harry coughed. "If anyone's going to foul it certainly won't be me..."

"If you break the bones in his hand before the game starts, that's not a foul but it's effective," Ginny grinned.

Hermione shook her head reproachfully. "I didn't hear that."

"Just as well," Ron grinned. "That way you won't be able to talk Harry out of it."

"I'm not planning to," she answered brusquely, pulling out her timetable. "Have you looked at the lessons scheduled for this year?"

Harry shook his head and looked at her timetable. What he saw made his jaw drop. "Four hours of Certamentis?"

"As a year-group," nodded Hermione. "And then a double period on Tuesday and a single on Friday in house groups."

"That's a hell of a lot," said Ron. "Dumbledore must think we really need this stuff. Seven hours a week... That's pretty good going."

"I'm curious to see what it'll be like," Dean murmured. "Very curious..."

***

But their first lesson was Potions with Snape. The Head of Slytherin was in a worse mood than ever. As he read out the names of the students in his NEWT class, he was literally grinding his teeth. When he reached Harry, he glanced up from the register, his dark eyes glinting. His acid tone of voice did not promise well. "You might have astonished me, and everyone else, with your OWL results, Potter, but I'm warning you: the moment I consider your performance to be unsatisfactory, I will have you removed from this course."

Harry gulped and tried to ignore Malfoy, who was sitting behind him, smirking maliciously and cracking his knuckles. The best thing would be to ignore Snape's hostility as well, so that he could concentrate on mastering Potions - something he would have to do if he wanted to follow his chosen career as an Auror.

Instructions for a potion for eye complaints appeared on the board. Snape ordered his students to pay close attention to every instruction and then sat down at his desk. With a sigh, Harry started cutting up the specified number of white lily petals. It sometimes seemed as if Snape were the only thing in the school that didn't change. Every pupil could firmly rely on his bad temper. It seemed that the teacher was unable to act in any other way. Harry remembered that Professor Améthyste Leroux had been staring at him at the banquet as dreamily as a teenager stares at her pop idol, and felt increasingly astonished. She couldn't know what a dark and aloof personality was hidden behind Snape's neutral expression. Harry felt sure that her interest in the Potions teacher would soon disappear. A beautiful woman like her could have much better men than Severus Snape.

After History of Magic they had their first lesson with Professor Leroux. However, on arriving at class they found the door locked. As there was no sign of their teacher, they waited in the corridor. After about five minutes, when all the other students were already in their classes, two figures appeared around a bend in the corridor. Hermione saw them over Harry's shoulder. "There she s," she said, and Harry and Ron turned around. She was right - one of the figures was Professor Leroux... accompanied by Snape. Or rather it seemed that the Head of Slytherin was trying to get rid of his colleague, but she seemed anxious to carry on her conversation with him.

"Flipping heck," Ron murmured, bewildered. "She's following him like a little dog."

Now the students could hear snatches of their conversation. Some of them pricked up their ears and listened with interest.

"Maybe you'll have time one afternoon, Professor Snape?" fluted Professor Leroux. "Then we could have a talk about that hobby we share..."

Harry's jaw dropped. It had never even occurred to him that Snape might have a hobby.

"A hobby?" Ron gasped. "What hobby? Taking points of Gryffindor? Bullying students? Winning the world championship in 'being insufferable'? But those could never be her hobbies..."

"Wait," murmured Dean.

Snape's reaction to Professor Leroux' proposition was very like Ron's. He looked at her acidly.

"Hobby?" he drawled.

"Of course." His colleague beamed at him. "Defence against the Dark Arts. I know how highly you value the subject."

Snape's expression didn't change as he pointed towards the locked classroom door. "I think your class is waiting for you, Professor Leroux."

"Ah yes, of course." She began to rummage around in her robes for the keys. Snape took advantage of this distraction to stride quickly away down the corridor. By the time Leroux had looked up to address a few more words to him, he was already disappearing around the corner, his cloak billowing out behind him. She shrugged her shoulders. "A man like him must have many demands on his time," she said, opening the door. The students flooded into the classroom. Ron, Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion. Professor Leroux walked up to the desk, humming quietly and waiting for the students to sit down. Soon, however, Harry began to wonder if she was really waiting for them at all - her entire attention seemed to be focussed on the papers she was reading. She seemed completely unaware of the quiet murmur of the class.

She was only brought back to reality by Lavender, who cleared her throat. "Uh, Professor? Could I go back to the common room for a moment - I've forgotten my book..." Améthyste Leroux shook her head. "No, stay where you are. You won't be needing the book today." She straightened the papers, put them to one side and pulled out the class register. She read out the names and seemed to be trying to learn them as quickly and as well as possible. When she had finished with the register she looked around the class. Ron was doodling on a piece of parchment.

"Mr. Weasley, could you give me a short summary of the teaching you received last year? I'd like to find out how much you all know."

Ron looked up with a start, and blushed. "Uh... last year, Professor?" Leroux nodded. "Well, we didn't learn much useful stuff last year." He hesitated and looked to Hermion for help. She spoke up immediately.

"The syllabus only covered the Ministry of Magic's laws regarding magical defence," she explained.

Leroux frowned. "Who was teaching you?"

Ron snorted. "That old hag..."

Harry gave him a rough dig in the ribs. "Professor Dolores Umbridge, miss," he added, just in time.

Améthyste Leroux pursed her lips contemptuously. "Well then, that explains this... threadbare syllabus for a fifth-year class. Most regrettable. This means that we will have to work very quickly in the next few months to catch up with everything you should have learnt last year. You will have to make an effort, please, to follow in class. Professor Dumbledore has told me that there are some very good students in this class. Perhaps you will be able to help each other. At any rate I will do my best to ensure that we completely cover the material recommended for the sixth year."

She looked up in surprise as the bell rang. "Good heavens, how time flies! Tomorrow could you all please bring your books with you. Last year's book s well as this year's. We'll work on them both at once." She began to gather her things together, and the students did the same. As they left, Harry stole a glance at the pile of papers that Professor Leroux had under her arm: "Rare Poisons and their Effects'. It was a research paper by Severus Snape.

"I think I'm going crazy," he murmured, pointing at the title. Ron and Hermione followed his gaze and then exchanged astonished glances.

"This Leroux is weird," Ron announced. "Very, very weird, in fact... She's standing my entire philosophy on its head!"

***

After lunch they made their way to the classroom where Pithormin Sesachar would be teaching them their new subject. The room was on the first floor. It was the only classroom there, apart from the room for Muggle Studies, and they had never been inside. The door was half open, and they stepped nervously inside.

"Flipping heck," Ron exclaimed.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Dean murmured.

"Now I know why this subject was forbidden for so long," Hermione remarked rather sharply.

On their right, between a narrow cupboard and blackboard which stuck out at an angle into the room was Professor Sesachar. He waved to them. "Ah, the first students. Come in and sit down."

The six of them entered the gigantic room. Its vaulted ceiling was a good eight meters high. Immediately in front of them were two rows of long, narrow benches facing a raised stage, which they could remember well from the duelling club with Gilderoy Lockhart. But it was no longer gold. It was covered with a large cloth embroidered with the phases of the moon. Behind the stage was a solid stone wall, but further down the room they could see a dark and rather sinister opening. They squeezed through the gap between the cupboard and the blackboard and found themselves in front of a row of desks. Behind them were four bookshelves - a row of three and then one arranged vertically, separating the sitting area from the stage like a giant screen.

In front of the desks was the teachers' platform and another small, round table, and in the far corner next to the window was another blackboard.

Professor Sesachar was sitting at his desk reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. He looked rather scruffy in his oversized clothes. His hat kept slipping down over his forehead, and while he read he pushed it absent-mindedly back onto his head.

Dean and Seamus sat down in the middle of the front row. Ron, Neville, Hermione and Harry followed them. Gradually more and more students came into the room, looked around them in amazement and then chose their seats. Luna Lovegood, Zacharias Smith, Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, Michael Corner, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley sat in the front row, so that most of the remaining members of the DA were together. The Slytherins all sat in the back row, scaring away a couple of Hufflepuffs who had arrived late and who then hurried to the last free places in the second row.

Pithormin Sesachar put aside the Daily Prophet and, as Leroux had before him, called the register. On reading out some of the names he stopped and looked up. All the pupils he was looking for were in the front row.

"Now there's a colourful bunch," he grinned, putting down the parchment. "Dumbledore's Army seems to be sticking together alright." The whole class stared at him in surprise, and many in bewilderment. "Army?" asked Naomi Wolf, a Ravenclaw, puzzled.

Professor Sesachar nodded. "Yep, army. A group of students from different year groups, formed last year against the school rules." He pulled out a second piece of parchment from under the register. Harry immediately recognised Hermione's handwriting. The thick lettering "Dumbledore's Army" was unmistakeable. Sesachar had obviously been given the list of members by Dumbledore. "This group was formed in rebellion against the inspector and later headmistress Professor Dolores Umbridge." He looked at the page, smiling slightly. "And it was also an excellent substitute for the poor teaching in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I'll be needing all the students on this list during the next few days. Mr Potter?"

Harry jumped. "Yes, Professor?"

"May I ask for your assistance for a moment?" Sesachar stood up from his desk and walked to the stage.

"Uh... of course, sir," Harry stammered, getting to his feet. The rest of the class followed, and Sesachar waved them towards the benches. He climbed onto the platform and signalled to Harry to do the same.

"As you will already know, Certamensis is a very controversial subject, and not altogether without risk. For this reason we chose this room because it is far enough away from the younger students. It is not unusual for students to be injured during the lessons. I will not force you to take part in every practical exercise, so if you don't feel ready for a task, don't try to perform it, just speak to me at the end of the lesson. However, you can learn a lot just by watching, and for this reason I would like to ask the more proficient students in the class for their assistance, which is why I have asked you, Mr. Potter."

From the back row, Draco Malfoy gave a snort of rage.

"I will teach you once a week as individual houses and once - as today - in your year group. I will teach the theory to the individual groups, and all practical work will be carried out in your joint lesson. This seemed the best way to go about things. You'll soon see why." He turned to Harry. "I assume you're familiar with the rules of duelling?"

Harry nodded, and like his teacher he pulled out his wand. "Yes, sir."

"Very good, very good... Certamensis goes beyond traditional duelling - there are parallels with Defence Against the Dark Arts, but it also involves precisely those. Black magic."

A murmur arose from the benches. Professor Sesachar shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think you'll be surprised to learn that an enemy won't give you a fair fight if you get into a dangerous situation. Or is a nice Rictusempra or Tarantallegra all that you expect from a Death Eater? Out there, they fight with different methods. Of course a few of the ordinary curses could help, but usually that's only possible if you're aware of what your enemy could be using against you. And that won't be as clean as your schoolbook curses. Ready, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry and Sesachar turned towards each other, bowed and raised their wands like swords. They turned their backs on each other and walked to their positions at opposite ends of the stage - Harry on the left and Sesachar on the right. Neither of them spoke a word, and Harry wasn't expecting the professor to count to three before he spoke his first curse. This wasn't training for a fair, decent fight. The second Harry heard a change in Sesachar's footsteps, he spun around and held out his wand ready for combat.

"Pedem offendere!" Sesachar yelled, and at the same moment Harry shouted "Impedimenta!"

The professor's curse - a hissing, bright yellow beam - slowed down as it met Harry's counter-curse. It became so slow that Harry could judge its direction and avoid it. He stepped nonchalantly to one side, making several students laugh.

"Recidito!" Sesachar barked out another curse that Harry had never heard before, and he answered it with "Locomotor mortis". Both he and Sesachar were able to dodge out of the way, and their respective curses hit the walls with a spray of sparks. Harry had thrown himself to the floor and the curse had flown over him, narrowly missing him. Now he tried to scramble to his feet. But Sesachar didn't feel the need to continue the duel standing up. Still lying on the ground he shouted "Impendito!" and this time the curse hit its target. Harry felt himself being lifted into the air, and found himself hovering five feet above the ground. He stared at Sesachar, who was holding him up with his wand, and shouted out an angry "Expelliarmus!" Even in this awkward position - it was impossible to take proper aim - he hit the professor, whose wand flew out of his hand. Harry fell back down onto the stage - painfully, but with his opponent's wand, which he had snatched out of the air, grasped tightly in his hand.

Pithormin Sesachar appeared very satisfied as he got up from the floor, although he was rubbing his arm. "That's a pity. I thought I'd be able to hang you from the chandelier, Mr. Potter. You'd have a great view of the blackboard from up there." Everyone laughed. Harry grinned too as he rubbed his sore backside.

"Mr. Potter has proved that you can defend yourself against curses you've never heard before, if you're fast enough. Reflexes are the most important thing in serious duelling. And that's what we're going to be training and testing, along with the new curses." Professor Sesachar pointed towards the seating area. "Back there I have a nice cupboard full of Boggarts - they don't mind being hurled against the ceiling, and in spite of everything I don't want to have to take a pupil to the hospital wing after the very first lesson. Any volunteers?"