Another Prisoner, Another Professor

Harry found out from Hagrid the next day that Black had changed his plans; he wasn't returning to Hogwarts until the holidays had ended. Ron took it as another sign that his theory was right. "Maybe it was a really bad full moon," he said, leaning back in his chair. "He's got to rest and recover."

If Black had been planning to rest and recover, it seemed to work; he returned just after the new year along with the rest of the school and looked, Harry noticed, newly invigorated.

"Healthy enough to eat five sausages," said Ron, glancing over to the high table as he stirred his porridge. "No, he's just taken another one - healthy enough to eat six sausages. Hey, Hermione, you don't want to bet on this, do you? I could use a little extra gold."

"I'm not betting on whether Black's a werewolf," said Hermione, whose eyebrows were raised high with disapproval. "We shouldn't treat it like a game."

Ron appeared to only be half-listening. "I bet he's still building up his strength again after changing into a wolf. Got to take a lot out of you, having your bones bend and everything."

They arrived at their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson later that day to find Black passing out new textbooks. "We're starting a new unit today," he said, handing a book to Hermione. "The use of blood magic in the Dark Arts. You don't have to pay for these books, I just want them back at the end of the unit with a minimal amount of damage."

"How was your holiday, sir?" Parvati asked. If Harry had had to make a guess about Parvati's holiday, he would have said that someone had given her new perfume; she smelled strongly like Aunt Petunia's lilac bush, an effect that was only heightened by her purple eyeshadow. Lavender looked at Black with great interest.

"It went well," he said, giving the last book to Seamus. "I spent it at my cousin Andromeda's house. All right, everyone sit down."

"Too bad we didn't do this unit at the start of the year," Ron whispered to Harry. "We could have saved all that time we spent in the library."

Black leaned back against the wall. "This is not going to be a particularly hands-on subject," he began. "It consists entirely of reading and study. Blood magic isn't the sort of thing you're going to encounter in your everyday life after you leave school; I'd be surprised if more than one or two of you had to deal with it at all. The subject typically isn't taught in schools for that reason - it has very little practical value. However, although learning about blood magic may not be a typical part of the curriculum at Hogwarts, it's very much a part of the curriculum, so to speak, of dark wizards. Therefore, I think it's important to at least have an understanding of the basics. It's not a tool that will most likely be used against you, but if it ever is, you'll be facing something very dangerous.

"Blood is at the very root of life. How many people here were raised in the Muggle world?" There was a show of hands. Harry looked around to see that besides his hand, Hermione, Dean and Lavender had raised theirs. Seamus held his hand flat and wiggled it from side to side. "You've probably heard of blood transfusions. People can live with no limbs, one kidney, or an underdeveloped brain, but no one can live without blood. Many groups of ancient wizards all over the world believed that injecting someone's blood into their own would give them that person's powers. Their experiments failed. I doubt you'd find a wizard alive today who believes there's any use in injecting another wizard's blood into his veins. After that phase, wizards theorized that stealing a small amount of another wizard's blood could give them control over him. They spent centuries making various potions involving blood that they hoped could give them that control, until the Ministry finally outlawed it in 1848. As far as I'm aware, no one has ever come up with a successful blood potion capable of controlling another person. But I wouldn't put it outside the realm of possibility. There have been a series of unrelated potion discoveries in just the last ten years that people would have thought at one time to be impossible."

Harry wondered if he was thinking about the Wolfsbane Potion. If there was a potion that could make werewolves safe, could there be a potion someday that could cure them altogether? Lockhart had once claimed to use a Homorphus Charm on a werewolf, but surely he had been lying. If Ron was right and Black was indeed a werewolf, perhaps he wouldn't have to be one forever. But if Black were to ever obtain custody of Harry, a cure would have to be found in the next four years or so, before Harry came of age...

"The main threat of blood magic is its ability to sap the life force. There have been a few documented cases of dark wizards performing spells on their enemies' blood in order to kill them, and succeeding. Blood magic isn't always damaging - a person's sacrifice of their own blood can protect others - but it has many damaging possibilities. No one's entirely sure how the wizards who killed their enemies with blood magic did it. The good side of that is that no one can read in a book how to do it themselves; the bad side is that although we know some of the elements involved, we don't know all of them and aren't fully aware of how to protect ourselves."

Harry approached Black at the end of class. "Are we still going to have anti-dementor lessons once a week?"

"Of course, if you still want to," said Black.

It was strange, standing near Black and knowing that Black was his godfather - knowing that Black had tried to have Harry live with him and might still be trying. Harry wanted to tell Black that he understood; he wanted to tell him everything, but he knew that he couldn't. "Yeah, I want to. Fred and George talked Wood out of scheduling Quidditch practice on Friday nights - "

"I could manage Friday nights," Black replied. "Eight o'clock as usual?"

"All right."

Black smiled. "How was your Christmas?"

"It was okay - Ron's mum made me another jumper."

"Andromeda bought me another motorbike jacket," said Black, and smiled even more widely. Harry smiled back.

The smile, however, was gone by the next day. Gryffindor had double Potions with the Slytherins.

It was clear that Snape, unable to give Harry detention, was determined to make his life miserable in any way possible. The first thing he did was announce that the class would have permanent, assigned table partners for the rest of the year. Harry, to his dismay but not to his surprise, was assigned to Malfoy. Ron was given Pansy Parkinson, Hermione was assigned to Crabbe, and Neville, who looked like he might start crying over the news, was assigned to Goyle.

"Snape gave you a decent mark on your Shrinking Solutions essay, anyway," said Neville on their way out of class. Snape had finally returned the essays and Harry had, amazingly, received eighty-two percent. He thought he knew what was behind it; Snape didn't want Harry to have any evidence to give to Black or Dumbledore that would show that Snape was being unfair to him. Snape wanted any complaints to come down to the question of his word against Harry's, without Harry having anything specific to point to.

"You did all right," said Harry. Neville had received seventy-one percent.

"Just barely," Neville said glumly. "Two more percents down and I'd have failed it. I'm not going to pass this class, Harry." He stopped walking and swallowed. "I'm going to be kept back, I know it. At least Colin Creevey's in that year and he likes me all right..."

"You're not going to be kept back," said Hermione firmly. "We're going to help you."

Harry wondered how Hermione planned to do that when every one of her waking hours was filled by classes, homework, or research for Buckbeak's hearing. Hermione, however, seemed to have a plan in mind; taking Neville by the arm, she led him up the stairs, Harry and Ron following.

Black was in his office, marking something down on a piece of paper. The book under the chair was gone. "Professor?" said Hermione. Black looked up. "I'm really sorry to interrupt you."

"That's all right," said Black, setting down his quill.

Hermione took a deep breath and launched into her speech. "Well, I know this is a lot to ask, but Hagrid said that you could have been the Potions master here, and Harry said that you used to collect ingredients for an apothecary, and I know you're very busy, but - Neville really needs some help with Potions. He's just barely passing it, and Snape hates him, he's not teaching him anything at all, and Neville's just a nervous wreck about it - "

"Hermione, shut up," Ron hissed. Neville had turned a deep shade of red and was staring at his toes.

"You don't have to help me," he mumbled. Harry was embarrassed for him. He knew Hermione just wanted to help, but he couldn't believe she'd gone about it so insensitively.

Black seemed to take it in stride. "I could help you if you wanted me to, Neville," he said. "I think it'll have to be on Saturdays, but it could work."

"I can't make you help me over the weekends," said Neville, and reddened again.

"You're not making me. I'm volunteering. I really and truly don't mind, I haven't had much of a chance to talk about potions since I came here and I miss it. Besides, I've always thought that anyone who's good at Herbology can be good at Potions."

Neville finally raised his head. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Black replied. "When you think about it, it's the same sort of thing - you have to know when to tend to what you're working on, when to leave it alone, what to put into it, what to watch for - you'll be fine, Neville. I think you just need a teacher who genuinely wants to teach you something." He lowered his voice. "Don't tell Professor Snape I said that."

"I won't," said Neville, and actually smiled.