Nox

Chapter 4 - Meet The New DADA Teacher

Harry was walking around the corridors quietly. It was the third day of school, which he also missed, because Madam Pomfrey refused to let him leave the Infirmary. She gave in around dinnertime. The first thing Harry did was talking to Dumbledore. He told him the entire story, from the day he was kidnapped to the dream he had two nights ago. By now dinnertime was over, and Harry was hungry and tired, and he still had a huge pile of homework to do. He couldn't believe it - it was only the third day of school, and he was already behind on his work! He sighed heavily, and the sigh immediately turned into a great yawn. One thing bothered him the most, one thought that crawled back to him, even though he pushed it away - why did Voldemort let me go? Just like that, he let me go.

"Albeo equus," he yawned as he reached the painting of the Fat Lady.

"You should get some sleep," advised the Fat Lady, moving, so that Harry could pass.

He spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at one of the tables. Ron was fuming over his Potions homework. Harry's heart pinched a little as he thought of all the homework he still had to do, but he ignored it. As he got closer to them he heard Hermione was ranting on about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. This was very unusual for Hermione; she didn't make a habit of bad-mouthing the teachers. Today was their first DADA lesson, which Harry missed; since then Hermione hadn't stopped talking about it.

"Harry, mate! What did Dumbledore say?" Ron said, as Harry reached them. His eyes, on the other hand, said, "Please help me! Get her to stop talking!"

"You know Dumbledore," Harry answered, somewhat still distracted. "He doesn't say much."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione greeted, looking over Ron's shoulders at his essay. "That's dragon hide, right there," she pointed out, "not dragon heart."

"Don't you have any work, 'Mione?"

"I already did mine." She threw Ron a dirty look.

"Oh, don't you have some miss-behaving first years to intimidate?" said Ron irritably.

"I do not intimidate first years!"

"You should have seen the looks on their little faces," Ron told Harry, "they were completely terrified!"

"Well, it's not my fault! They were playing with Gobstones in the middle of the corridor, it's against the rules."

"You already sound like Percy," Ron said, as if this was the worst curse in the world. "And anyway, you didn't have to threaten to expel them! Poor first year Hufflepuffs," he sighed dramatically. "You really enjoy being a prefect, don't you?"

At this point Harry stopped listening, and instead let himself sink in his thoughts.

~*~*~

"A witch?" asked Mrs. Figg. "But I am, of course. Expelled me off Hogwarts, they did. Broke my wand, ya know," a spark of something like an old grudge lit in her eyes, and she looked at Harry sadly.

"But... but why did you never tell me? That you were... that I was...!"

"I'm afraid that's my fault, Harry," Dumbledore said from his chair. "I asked Arabella to guard you, and we couldn't let you know what you are--"

"Why?" Harry felt like an eight-year-old, but he couldn't help himself.

"Harry, we'll have to finish our conversation on another day," Dumbledore said, and that was it.

Harry got up, and with a last look at the old wizard and, apparently, witch, he walked out of the room. He sighed. It was only the third day of school and already he had so many questions that were bothering him.

~*~*~

"'Ave you ered, 'arry?" Ron said, with his mouth full of cereal.

"About what?" asked Harry, moving his mashed potatoes around his plate.

"Geir 'aving--" he swallowed. "They're having Quidditch tryouts for the team! They need a new keeper."

"Oh, indeed?" Harry looked at his friend. Somehow, he forgot all about Quidditch.

"Yes, there was a note on the message board, the tryouts are on next Thursday." Harry was about to ask who was the new Captain, when Ron added quietly, "I was thinking about applying... maybe... you know."

"Oh," Harry said, "that would be great." He smiled at Ron encouragingly.

"You think? I thought it would be fun if we were together on the team, an' all."

"Yes, of course!" Harry said.

Then there was a great noise of swishing wings, and in came the Owl Post. No post came for either of them. Hermione, on the other hand, got The Daily Prophet. She put aside the Transfiguration book she was reading, and leafed through The Prophet. Harry and Ron quietly ate their breakfasts.

"Another person was found dead," she announced finally, closing the newsletter. "Another person is dead, and we can't do anything about it." She pushed her plate aside.

"We will do something," Harry said sheepishly, "we'll find a way..."

"How do you know we will?" she demanded.

"We just will."

"No, we won't," she said angrily, leaving the table.

"What--" Ron yawned, "was that about?"

"I have no idea," Harry said.

"She's afraid," said Seamus from his seat at the table, holding another copy of The Prophet. "This time it was a Muggle killed, there will be more. And Hermione's parents are Muggles, remember?"

"Yeah..." Dean agreed gloomily.

"Hello, Fred," Seamus greeted Fred who now came to breakfast.

"Hi, Fred," said Ron, Harry and Neville. Dean was still preoccupied.

"Hello, mates," greeted Fred, sitting in Hermione's empty seat.

Another death, Harry thought. He's been back for only four days, and by this time Voldemort had killed six people. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

~*~*~

Harry entered the Potions dungeon, like all his classmates. It was just his luck that the first lesson he participated in, wound up to be Potions. He gave Ron another weary look as they sat down beside Hermione, who's already been there for a while. Last came in Snape, who glared at Harry menacingly.

"I'm glad," drawled Snape when the last student set down, "to see that Mr. Potter has finally decided to join our class, seeming that the school year started four days ago." A few of the Slytherins laughed, Draco Malfoy was one of them. "Potter," Snape shot, "would you like to tell me why is salamander skin so important for the Potion we're making?"

"Err...." He gave Hermione a pleading look, but there was nothing she could do, as Snape was closely watching him. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"Say it again, Potter, I didn't get that," Snape eyed him.

"I don't know," Harry gritted his teeth.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said, satisfied. "Potter, you should make up for the lessons you miss, you have no excuse for not doing so."

"But--"

"Next time it will be a detention."

Harry was quiet for the entire lesson, and only glared at Snape.

~*~*~

That afternoon Harry was walking around, preoccupied, on his way to Gryffindor tower. Why did Voldermort let him go? And what does Dumbledore know about it? What was the big thing that Voldemort supposedly did? And what was happening with Mrs. Figg?

He was so bothered with his thoughts that he didn't notice what he was doing and tripped over a disappearing step. He fell flat on his face, and his glasses fell off.

"Ouch!" He got to his feet, rubbing his nose. "Where are my glasses?" He tried squinting around to find them, but only succeeded in giving himself a headache. He was even ready to humiliatingly drop down on all fours, but then he heard footsteps from behind him; someone was coming.

Harry spun around quickly. He could barely make out the form of a wizard walking towards him. "Excuse me?" Harry called as the person neared him, but they didn't seem to hear him. "Excuse me?" he repeated. The person stopped lazily in front of Harry. From up close he could make out blond hair.

"Yes, Potter?" asked a cold voice.

Harry's mouth formed an O as he finally realized who was in front of him. "Never mind," he hurriedly said. He hated being so vulnerable with Malfoy around to see it.

Through his anger at himself Harry noticed something. This was so unusual that even in his current state Harry found time to ponder about it - Malfoy was alone. No Crabbe and Goyle. Harry couldn't think of a time he saw Malfoy without his "bodyguards".

"You bloody wanted something, Potter, did you not?"

"It doesn't matter," said Harry through gritted teeth.

Malfoy shrugged and kept on walking. Harry barely followed him with his eyes as he skipped over the step that tripped Harry. Then he stopped and turned around.

"Potter, be at the lake by dinner time, if you know what's good for you," he said, and as footsteps were heard coming from the other end of the hall, walked away quickly.

Harry threw him a weird look. "Excuse me?" he turned to the newcomer. "Could you help me find my glasses?"

~*~*~

It was nearing dinnertime, and Harry wasn't sure if he should go meet Malfoy or not. Malfoy would probably try and do something to him; it wasn't very wise to go. He was reminded of that time in first year when Malfoy challenged him to a Wizard Duel and then tipped Filch about him wandering in the corridors after hours, which ultimately reminded him of Fluffy. He shuddered at that thought, and bitterly smiled to himself. How everything was so simple when he was young; there was good and there was evil, and if no one were about to do anything then he would have to do it himself. But now it was different and exhausting. There was still good and evil, but he didn't know which was which anymore, he didn't know who to trust and whom not to. Now he had no idea what was going on around him, and there was nothing he could possibly do. Sighing, he decided to meet with Malfoy and see what he wanted.

"Harry, aren't you coming to dinner?"

He averted his eyes from the fire in the fireplace and looked at Ron, blinking. "Er... I'm not so hungry," he said distractedly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry said, "I'll go in a bit."

"Ok." Ron looked at him weirdly. "See you mate." And he left the Common Room, which was now almost empty.

A few minutes later, Harry grabbed his warm cloak and left to the lake.

~*~*~

Malfoy was already there when Harry got to the lake. It was blistering cold and Harry hung tightly to his cloak, but the other boy didn't seem to be affected by the coldness. He was sitting down by the end of the lake, and looked towards Harry as he came nearer.

"Don't be late," he said, standing up. "It's inappropriate."

Harry stopped a couple of feet away from him, and couldn't help but shiver in the cold wind. For the first time Harry noticed a shiny Slytherin Prefect Budge. So Malfoy is a Prefect? he thought. Well, considering the other choices...

"Have you considered the offer?"

Harry thought a second. "What offer?"

"Power and wealth, beyond your wildest dreams."

He completely forgot about that since that night. "I already told you, Malfoy, I will never join Voldemort." He looked him hard in the eye to make sure it was clear to Malfoy.

"I always knew you were stupid, Potter," Malfoy spat.

"Whatever you say." Harry didn't have the strength to fight with Malfoy at that moment. He was confused, weary and tired, and nothing was fitting in place. There were so many things, all in chaos. He sat down where Malfoy was before, and looked at the dark lake, pensive.

After a few minutes Harry realized that Malfoy sat down beside him, keeping a safe distance away from him.

"Go away, would you?" he said irritably.

"You know," Malfoy said, ignoring Harry, "I would kill for an offer like that from the Dark Lord."

"I'm positive you would."

"This is not something you refuse."

"Why do you even care?" Harry snapped. "You hate me, don't you? You'd love to see him kill me, right? So why do you try so hard to convince me?!"

"I'm supposed to," came the much calmer reply.

There was a long pause. "You know, Malfoy, I don't understand," Harry mused. "Voldemort - why does he do that? What is all the killing for? What is he trying to accomplish?"

"Merlin, Potter, sometimes you're too naive for your own good," Malfoy said. "Power, Potter. He terrorizes the people to gain control over them. They fear him."

"And when," Harry said slowly, "he has all the power in the world - what will he do then?"

"He will seek more power."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Harry wondered.

"As it should."

"And what about you? You are playing his game. You are his pawn."

The tips of Malfoy's ears reddened at this word, but he stayed calm, "I too seek power."

"Power over what? Power over whom?" Harry attacked.

"None of which you will ever be able to comprehend." He stopped and bit his lip, thinking. "Potter, in your little fantasy world everything is black and white - good and evil, right and wrong. Well, it doesn't work that way in the real world. There is no such thing as evil, no one kills people just because, there is a reason for killing someone. There always is. In the real world it's power that counts. Power and money, and the use you put in it." Somehow it didn't seem to Harry that donating for charity was what Draco Malfoy would consider "putting in good use" of money.

"But what is power good for at the end of the day? Power doesn't love you," Harry said roughly, "you just love power."

"I said that you wouldn't understand this," said Malfoy arrogantly. "Don't bother your delusional brain anymore. I have heard what I need to hear, and said more than enough. I shall meet you at the battlefield."

He walked away from the lake and Harry, into the castle. Harry stayed there for a while, just thinking about everything Malfoy said.

~*~*~

When Harry got back to the castle it was very late. The walls had an eerie aura coming from them. The fire in the Common Room was slowly dying away. His head hurt, and he felt numb, maybe because he was so long out in the cold. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He slowly opened the door to the dorm, trying to make as less noise as possible. All the other boys were already in their beds, sleeping.

"Harry? Is that you?" a soft sleepy voice was heard.

"Yes, Ron," Harry answered quietly, taking off his cloths and getting into his pajamas.

"You're late."

"I know." He slipped under the covers of his bed and took off his glasses. Ron already fell back asleep, and he himself fell asleep only minutes after. His last thought was 'don't be late.'

~*~*~

"Settle down, everyone."

It was Harry's first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, and he could finally see what Hermione was talking about. He took a seat between her and Ron and waited for the rest of the class to sit down.

"All right," said the Professor. "Can anyone tell me what a Praestigio spell is?"

Hermione's hand shot up as usual.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Excuse me, Professor Benton, but I have a question."

"Of course, Miss Granger, what is it?" He seemed keen to answer anything Hermione had to ask.

"Will you let the girls work too this time?" she asked sweetly. The class fell completely silent. Tension was in the air.

"Well... no," said Professor Benton. "You understand, Miss Granger, Defense Against the Dark Arts is more of a man's field. You girls shouldn't do the fighting, it's too dangerous for you."

Hermione's face reddened. "That is just chauvinistic!" she exclaimed.

"Well, let's go back to the subject, shall we?" he said to the entire class.

"Uge!" grunted Hermione beside him, and Harry tried to pet her shoulder in a friendly way.

"Does anyone know what a Praestigio spell is?"

Silence greeted that question. Harry could see Hermione battling with her instincts not to raise her hand.

"All right, a Praestigio spell is an illusion spell, it creates any illusion you want to make, which evidently can be very useful in battle--"

He drew out his wand and cried: "mittere praestigium!"

A great lion, about three feet tall, came out of his wand. It had a beautiful mane, sharp eyes that glared at them, and its tail was moving slowly and dangerously from side to side. It showed them its teeth and growled. A few of the girls screamed, and backed away. Harry's heart beat so fast that it was about to burst out of his chest. If he hadn't known better he would have thought the lion was real. It looked real, and dangerous.

The lion's eyes flashed and then it roared, and jumped right at poor Neville. Neville screamed and closed his eyes, and Harry admitted to himself that if he were at that position he wouldn't have acted much differently. The lion went right through Neville and his desk, and then returned to the front of the class. Professor Benton said "Finite Incentatum!" and the lion dissolved into thin air.

The entire class, aside from Hermione, that is, burst with cheers, clapping their hands and, in Seamus and Dean's case, whistling.

When the cheers subdued Professor Benton spoke again, "It's a very hard spell to perform, you'll have to practice a lot to get better at it, and it won't be easy. As your magical ability will grow, so will your illusion. It will be easier to perform the spell, it will look more lifelike, and it will last longer. However, unless you practice its all the time you won't be able to produce more then a quill. Now," he said, pulling a long silver key out of his pocket, and placing it on the table. "Get to work, boys - the incantation is mittere praestigium. We will start with something small and inanimate. I want you to imitate this key. Girls - you can read about it in page 58 in your book."

"Read? I don't want to read, I want to perform the spell!" Hermione said, exasperated.

"Miss Granger, this is a very difficult spell, and I--"

"I bet I could do it better than any of the boys," Hermione cut him.

"Now, Granger, you girls shouldn't worry about these kind of things. You just read the book, all right?"

Hermione opened her book, deliberately doing so aggressively, and started reading, every once in a while glaring at the Professor.

"Now boys, do try the spell, will you?"

Harry concentrated really hard on the key. He memorized its appearance and he even knew the exact pattern of the curves. He said the incantation and on the table appeared the key, just like Benton's, though it was semi-transparent.

"Nice work, Potter," said Professor Benton, who walked past his table, "try again."

Harry looked around him to see how the others were doing -

Beside him, Ron was doing better. Unlike Harry's it was fully visible, though it had a bit of a bluish hue to it, and he couldn't seem to make it stay for long. Neville's key was also wavering on and off site. Seamus', like Harry's illusion was semi-transparent, and Dean, whom Professor Benton was complementing, seemed to be the only one that got the spell right.

Harry felt sad, looking at the girls. Lavender was glaring at all the boys. Hermione, beside him, was pretending to read, but her eyes barely even moved. He didn't understand why Professor Benton wouldn't let them do any actual work.

Sighing, he got back to the task at hand, and tried making that key again. This time it looked almost real.

~*~*~

"You see what I was talking about?" Hermione said to Harry, on their way to dinner. "That teacher is so awful!"

"I don't see what's wrong with him," Ron said.

"Well, of course you don't, you're an imbecile," she snapped at him. "The man doesn't let any of the girls do anything!"

"That's not true, he let you read," reminded Ron.

"Ugh!" She glared at him, and went back to Harry, "I don't understand why Dumbledore would hire such a horrible person."

"I don't think he had much choice in the matter," Harry got to talk for the first time in the conversation, as they sat down at the Gryffindor house table. "After the past few years, I'm starting to wonder if that position really is cursed."

"Don't be ridiculous, it isn't cursed," Hermione said.

"You don't know that for sure," he raised his eyebrows.

After a while of eating, Ron was telling Fred and George about Professor Benton's lion. ("--And it looked so real, you wouldn't believe that it was just an illusion." "We studied this charm two years ago, Ron, we don't care--"), and Harry was once again deep in thought, until Hermione disturbed his thoughts.

"I'll do something about it," she said decisively.

"Great idea," Harry said, with no enthusiasm.