Meet the Parents

And so school began.

It was amazing how similar the first lessons in the year 1976 were to those twenty years later. Most of the teachers started with the boring talk about the necessity of hard work and difficulty of the N.E.W.T.s considering the meager two-year-long period they had to prepare for the examination. They didn't wait and started hurrying along with very advanced material. Even Hermione admitted that she hadn't expected the classes to be this demanding.

McGonagall immediately assigned their first essay, two rolls of parchment to be handed by their next lesson, which happened to be only one day later. Flitwick gave them long list of spells they should master by themselves, because there would be no time for that during class. Professor Kettleburn asked for the detailed description of their experiences with magical animals so far.

All the teachers seemed to share the belief that Harry, Ron and Hermione might have a lot of problems with adjusting and made some sort of test for the new students, refusing to rely on the O.W.L. results.

Potions class was the biggest shock. The teacher, Madame Arielle Dose, was an old, white-haired woman. She wore glasses with ridiculously thick lenses and had terrifyingly wrinkled hands. She was the only teacher who didn't welcome them with a long speech. In fact, apart from a short good morning, she didn't say anything at all. There were some instructions on the blackboard, but the students didn't get to work. They talked loudly and walked freely around the laboratory, while Madam Dose did nothing but bury herself in some papers, oblivious to everything going on around her.

Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't surprised when it turned out that apart from few overachievers, no one really bothered with the potion they were supposed to be brewing.

"You know what, Harry?" Ron said after a short contemplation of everything around them, "I think I can actually start liking this subject, don't you?"

Harry only laughed in response. Hermione looked irritated, though.

"We'll never learn anything this way," she fumed. "And don't forget that you both will have to excel in the subject later on."

"Don't worry--I bet that with the lessons like this, each of us knows Potions better then the rest of the class combined. That is--apart from Snape." They all looked at the Slytherin boy, who was in the middle of producing something in his cauldron. It certainly had nothing to do with the draught from the blackboard. He had a thick book open on the desk and flipped through it while adding some ingredients to his potion.

The mayhem continued throughout the whole lesson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, the long week was coming to an end. Harry was already tired and overworked, even though it was only the beginning. Almost every teacher gave them some research to do or an essay to prepare. He felt glad that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts for his last lesson; for him, it was as if the weekend started early.

Feeling relaxed, he sat up front with Lily on his left and Ron and Hermione right behind him. It became a pattern--Lily was very ambitious, just like Hermione, and wanted to have a place near to the teacher to make sure that she didn't miss anything important. Harry suspected that another reason was the fact that the Marauders happened to sit in the back during most of the classes, and Lily obviously wanted to avoid them.

Harry waited anxiously for the lesson to begin and listened half-heartedly to Alice, who stood next to their desk and gossiped about the DADA professor, Mr. Olaf Lindberg. He had already taught for two years and was both a skilled and a demanding teacher, a little bit similar to Professor McGonagall, although with a very sarcastic and sometimes vicious sense of humor. Before getting the job at Hogwarts, he had been an Auror in Norway for about twenty years, so he had a lot of practical experience.

Exactly one minute before the beginning, Mr. Lindberg entered the classroom. He was lean and tall, and had long, greyish hair tied at the back. There were some frown-marks on his forehead and he had a big, ugly scar--one end of it was visible on his left hand and disappeared into the sleeve of his robe. Without a single word to the students, he started to summon different objects and books, muttering some spells and waving his wand with ease and some laziness. His desk slowly filled with seemingly random stuff and he finished exactly at the moment when the bell rang. He didn't even need to quiet the class; everyone's attention was on him already.

"Welcome in the N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts course. I want to warn you that we are going to proceed into an extremely dangerous and difficult branch of magic this year, so anyone--I repeat--anyone, who is not sure that he can handle a certain number of injuries should leave the classroom now."

He almost whispered, yet his voice was perfectly audible in deadly silent room. No one spoke, no one moved. Mr. Lindberg continued his speech.

"All of you here have received an outstanding grade on your O.W.L., but it doesn't mean that you are ready to deal with all the challenges awaiting you this year. Until now, you used to be the best and in some cases, you probably found my lessons too easy. This is going to change. Everybody will have to put a considerably larger amount of effort into this class. If you are not ready for that, you may leave now."

It seemed a little strange to Harry that the professor had mentioned resigning from his course twice in such a short speech. He sounded almost as if he wanted to scare people away. Harry wondered briefly if that wasn't mostly directed at him, Ron and Hermione. If Mr. Lindberg believed, as did some other teachers, that being home-tutored meant they were not capable to deal with the stress, then he certainly expected that they were even less prepared for injuries.

Professor Lindberg continued speaking for quite a long while. He told them exactly what they going to cover during the coming two years and then mentioned that students would have to participate in one large project every semester. The projects were supposed to be done in groups of three, which Professor Lindberg himself would oversee. After he finished explaining all the details about the way the project would be marked, he looked around the classroom silently and finally asked, "Any questions?"

No one spoke--he really made everything clear, so there was no need for any additional information.

"Very well. Before we proceed, there is one more thing which I believe that needs to be done. Please, could you all stand up and move away from your desks?" Everybody stood up and moved to the wall, obeying the teacher's order silently. As soon as they were finished, Professor Lindberg made a complicated gesture with his wand and all the furniture from the classroom disappeared. Harry heard Hermione whispering to Ron, "That was quite impressive."

"Miss Bradley, could I ask you to stop talking with your brother? I am aware that you aren't used to the discipline demanded in schools such as Hogwarts, but you should understand by now that you have to remain concentrated throughout the whole lesson. Conversations with other students do not help achieving that. Now--the other Mr. Bradley first, I suppose. Please, come and stand over there." He beckoned to Harry and pointed at the far end of the classroom.

Harry went there, wondering what was going on. Some if his anxiety was probably visible, as Professor Lindberg commented without the smile, "No need to be afraid. I need to assess your capabilities and therefore you are now going to take part in the wizarding duel. It would be the first duel in your life, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied without hesitation. Lying about his past was getting easier and easier every day.

"I need a volunteer to fight against Mr. Bradley." People started to whisper to each other, obviously as surprised by the unexpected situation as Harry was. Suddenly a voice was heard above the muttering.

"I can do it, sir." Harry turned his head to see the person whom he was going to face and when he did, he paled and blinked few times rapidly. He felt as if a big, heavy stone was lying on his chest. It was James Potter! How was he supposed to fight against his father?

James walked to the spot on the opposite end of the classroom--right where the teacher's desk had stood just a moment ago. He looked determined, and there was a fire in his eyes--was he trying to get revenge on Harry for what he believed to be the stealing of his girlfriend? Or was he simply preparing himself for the fight? Harry didn't know, but it didn't really matter to him. His legs were weak as if they were made of jelly, and his hands were sweating from the nervousness he felt. He couldn't do it! It was too much--meeting his own father when he was Harry's age was hard enough, but being forced to throw curses and hexes at him--he couldn't do it. The hateful glares that James threw at Harry didn't help.

Suddenly Harry realized that Professor Lindberg was talking again. He tried to focus on his words.

"...so I want you to pay close attention to the duel. I will ask you to point out Mr. Bradley's mistakes afterwards. We haven't done much dueling yet--think about it as about your first lesson on the subject. Mr. Bradley, James--are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!" James answered and took his wand out. Harry did the same and met James' eyes. The other boy sneered.

"Begin!"

"Aquatulum!" Harry moved only because of his instincts--he didn't even try to use magic to defend himself, to say nothing of striking back. He was not fast enough, though, and soon he was soaking wet, which revealed how thin he actually was under the layers of robes.

"Impedimenta!" James didn't wait and sent another curse in direction of his opponent. Harry summoned a protective shield, but James knew the countercurse and Harry was defenseless again.

James cast one spell after another, deliberately choosing the most humiliating and painful ones he could think of. Harry managed to avoid some of them, but others hit him with their full power. Soon his face was covered with large red spots, his glasses were broken and his left hand grew to an abnormal size. He hoped desperately that Professor Lindberg would end the duel, but the man seemed oblivious to the fact that Harry wasn't fighting at all.

James, on the other hand, was fully aware of this, and it further increased his anger.

"Fight, you coward!" he shouted. It wasn't satisfying at all, winning over someone like this. He felt disgusted with both himself and Harry. That was certainly not what he wanted. Finally he decided to finish it; there was no point in torturing the boy.

"Expelliarmus!" he said, not even bothering to do it loudly. Harry's wand flew into the air, and the boy smiled, obviously relieved, and collapsed to the floor a moment later.

James looked around. He hadn't noticed other people during the duel at all; he had concentrated only on the enemy. Now he could see the expressions of the other students. Sirius smirked, leaning against the wall, and Remus shook his head when he caught his eye. Lily looked disgusted and furious, holding Hermione's hand. Both Ron and Hermione were pale and boiling with anger.

"Thank you, James," Mr. Lindberg spoke. "That was too harsh, I guess, but it was a fine job nonetheless. Ennervate. Finite Incantatem." He cast the spells, pointing his wand at Harry, and soon, he regained consciousness. "Mr. Bradley, go to the hospital wing, please. Madame Pomfrey will know how to remove the effects of the curses you've suffered."

Harry got up, trying to fight the nausea. He noticed his wand and bent over to pick it up, but he stumbled and almost fell.

"Professor!" Lily cried. "He's not well enough to go there by himself. Let me walk him!"

James looked as if someone slapped him. Was she blind or something? This boy was a pathetic coward, why would she stick with him like that?

"You are right, Miss Evans, you had better go with him. You really were too harsh, James," Professor Lindberg said as Lily helped Harry up and they slowly left the room.

"Well, that was--disappointing. I am not sure whether I shall continue with the duels--perhaps I should simply not accept you into this class either." He looked at Ron and Hermione questioningly. "I wouldn't want to see something like that again any time soon."

"Professor--you shouldn't judge Harry by that..." Hermione started to reply, alarmed by the words not accept you EITHER.. Mr. Lindberg looked at the girl sharply.

"I don't think it's your decision, Miss Bradley. What I want to know is whether you want to follow in your brother's steps, or are you ready to take part in a duel?"

Hermione glared at the man and headed without comment to the back of the class, where Harry had stood before his duel.

"I see--Sirius, would you be so kind to partner this young lady?" The question was oddly formed and the mischievous Marauder replied instantly, with the same fake charming smile he had on at the welcome feast.

"Of course, Professor. I'd love to be her partner." A few people laughed.

"Try not to hurt her. I wouldn't want two students injured during one lesson."

Sirius stood at the opposite end of classroom. He looked very self-confident, with one hand on his hip. Hermione focused and tried to calm down.

"BEGIN!"

Hermione didn't wait with the attack. She used all her skills and easily blocked the first few hexes, not very dangerous ones. Her attack, an well-aimed Bat-Bogey Hex, reached the target. Sirius' smirk disappeared, but he removed the bat wings with a wave of his wand. Both of them thought exactly the same thing: That's not going to be easy.

Different spells flew between them with enormous speed. They attacked and blocked and dodged, getting more and more tired. Sirius, who seemed to enjoy himself during the first part of the duel, was slowly losing his patience. He tried more violent, stronger curses, but it didn't help. She countered them all! And not only that, she actually threw a few spells which he didn't recognize!

He had to do something different, original, unexpected--only what? Suddenly an idea, a stupid idea struck him.

They paused for a while, trying to catch a breath and eyeing each other warily. Sirius pretended to cough, while in fact he said an incantation. Hermione looked surprised for a while and suddenly burst into uncontrolled laughter. A tickling charm. Anything more powerful wouldn't work without a proper pronunciation.

He disarmed her and muttered Finite Incantatem as soon as her wand was safe in his hand. She looked at him, breathing heavily from the effort and, to his utter surprise, with her voice still a little bit shaky, she thanked him for an interesting fight.

He gaped at her throughout the rest of the lesson, not really paying attention to the third duel (Ron versus some Ravenclaw boy, won by Hermione's brother after about ten seconds). How could he have misjudged this girl so much? He was sure she was average (apart from her looks), easy-to-get and even-easier-to-dump girl, like most of the girls he met and dated. But there must be more to her, after seeing how she fought so well and spoke so nonchalantly after their duel--and he was going to make sure that he was the first guy to find out all the other intriguing talents and qualities she possessed.

Madam Pomfrey fixed Harry in no time. She praised him for not even flinching when she poured some disgusting potion down his throat and painfully removed the effects of all the different curses James had used. But Harry didn't really feel he deserved the compliment.

He had acted like a total jerk! Idiot! Imbecile! Coward--yeah, he was pretty sure that after the duel, everybody apart from Ron and Hermione would think he was a coward. Well, he knew that it wasn't true, but still--the bitter feeling of failure prevented him from falling asleep in the warm hospital bed.

Why couldn't he get a grip of himself? Of course, it wasn't that he should have actually fought his father, but there were so many harmless ways of dealing with the situation. A simple Expelliarmus would have been sufficient.

God, he had managed to stand up to Lord Voldemort himself and all of sudden he was incapable of finding the way to win against sixteen-year-old James Potter!

He closed his eyes and shifted in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. But it didn't help; his mind was still circling around the duel. Back then, he had been absolutely petrified by the hate he saw in his father's eyes, he was unable to think coherently. Now however, he saw with the terrifying clarity all the consequences of his actions, or rather the lack of them.

It was obvious that the teacher, Professor Lindberg, was very unlikely to accept him into the class after that. This wasn't a real problem, though. He could ask Dumbledore for help, and once the old wizard understood the situation, he certainly would talk with Lindberg and convince him to give Harry another chance.

The thing that Harry was really worried about was of a totally different nature. Until now, he had hoped that he would be able to sort things out with James and Sirius and maybe--just maybe--get to know their good sides. He was not really sure what was he expecting to happen, but he knew that he had been given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get to know his parents, and now, that chance was surely gone. His father would never accept him now, same as Sirius...

And Lily? Well, she certainly wasn't going to reject him--after all, she was the one who took care of him right after the duel, but he wasn't so sure what her reasons were. What if she did it because she was annoyed and wanted to wind James up? Or if she thought it was her duty as a prefect?

And even if that wasn't the case, now she certainly would think that Harry was some weak, delicate wimp, unable to take care of himself--that definitely was not what Harry wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione had the rest of the lesson to think about everything that had happened. She give her own duel a second thought. She was too worried about Harry. She knew that he would be very ashamed of himself and regarding the state of mind he had been in for the past few months, this was not good. She could only hope he would be able to look at things reasonably.

Entirely another problem was dealing with Professor Lindberg. She decided to talk to him after the lesson. She had to convince him to give Harry a chance. Maybe another duel, with someone else? Or some sort of test?

She waited anxiously for the lesson to finish and walked directly to the teacher's desk.

"Professor Lindberg...." she began, but the man interrupted her rudely.

"I know what you are about to say, Miss Bradley, but I am not going to change my mind. Letting your brother take part in an advanced course like this would put him in danger. I'm sorry." He turned away from her and resumed vanishing all the peculiar objects from his desk. But Hermione was not going to give up this easily. A plan started to form in her head.

"That's not what I was going to ask about, Professor," she said smoothly. "Harry will surely prefer to talk to you himself." She was perfectly polite. The man looked at her, bewildered.

"No? Well, what is it, then?"

"I was wondering--you see--I had some problems with one spell, which Harry showed me--we decided that maybe the problem was that he didn't know how to teach me the spell--explain all the details, which he did without thinking--I was wondering if you could help me, Professor..." She looked at the teacher, hoping that her strategy would work. Indeed, he seemed quite interested.

"And what is the spell, Miss Bradley?"

"Oh--the Patronus charm, Professor," she said, trying to sound innocent. Her plan was very simple. She wanted the man to believe that Harry had mastered the charm without any effort. That might make him reconsider allowing Harry into the class--after all, this was a truly advanced piece of magic.

The man blinked few times in astonishment.

"Are you sure you aren't confusing the name, Miss Bradley?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I mean the charm to fight away dementors, Professor."

"Ah, yes. It's the right charm, then."

"I can't make my Patronus corporeal. I don't know why--all I can do is this silvery mist--would you help me?"

Hermione watched the man with amusement. He actually was embarrassed. Why would he be? Did he...?

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Miss Bradley. The charm you are talking about exceeds the normal defense course and I have no time to teach everybody the things they want to learn individually..." He didn't meet her gaze, and she was sure that he was lying. He simply couldn't produce the Patronus himself! That was amusing!

But, on second thought, that might turn disastrous. If he was an envious sort of person, her plan was bound to backfire--he would be even more unwilling to accept Harry after he knew that he could do a spell which was too complicated for him.

She only hoped it wasn't the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Lindberg was sitting in his office that Friday evening, waiting for Harry Bradley to come. After the conversation he had with his sister earlier, he was sure that the boy would come as soon as he was dismissed from the hospital wing.

He didn't really know how to deal with this particular student. On one hand, his duel had been terrible, pathetic, and simply insufficient for the N.E.W.T. course. But then, if the boy really could produce a Patronus--it was the charm which, a long time ago, had almost caused his expulsion from the Auror Academy. Maybe the boy didn't have the guts to become a warrior or Auror, but if he could perform the Patronus Charm, he must have some talent. No matter how much he--as a teacher--would prefer not to have the boy in his class, he should give him a chance, shouldn't he? Then again, although he didn't fight during his duel, he didn't run, he didn't hide, he didn't even cry from the pain, which some of the curses he had received had surely caused. In some ways, it was impressive.

A knock on the door stopped his train of thought.

"Come in!" he shouted, looking at Bradley as he entered the room and closed the door after himself quietly. The boy didn't really look scared--in fact, he didn't even appear nervous. But he was not going to make it easy for Harry.

"What would you like to tell me, Mr. Bradley?"

"Professor, I wanted to ask if you could let me stay in the N.E.W.T.-level class," the boy answered, not lowering his gaze.

"Why should I do it?" he demanded, wondering what answer the boy would come up with.

"Well--the duel I had with James Potter--there was an important reason, a personal reason, why I didn't fight back. I can't tell you what it is exactly--but if you need someone to confirm my words, sir, you can ask Professor Dumbledore. He knows the reason--I am ready to prove that I am good enough to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I really am. I know it's going to sound stupid and you probably won't believe me, but I taught Hermione and Ron half of what they know, and you've seen them, sir..." He looked at him with some hope in his eyes.

"You ask me to test your courage and practical knowledge once again? Even though you already have failed once? Normally, I wouldn't agree. But in your case--your sister said something which led me to the belief that you are actually quite capable. She said that you could do a very advanced spell--the Patronus Charm."

The boy didn't even bother to answer, he simply took out his wand and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" A silver stag erupted from the tip of the wand and galloped around the room a few times before dissolving into mist and evaporating.

Professor Lindberg stared at the boy with a contemplative look for a while. Finally he spoke.

"I have to admit I am impressed. But this is still not enough. In fact, I should ask you to do the thing that was too difficult for you previously--but if you say there was an important reason--I shall talk to Professor Dumbledore about it. Now, the question is, how should I test you, if not by the duel?"

Harry blinked few times. This wasn't a rhetorical question; the teacher really wanted him to reply. What was he supposed to suggest?

"I don't know, sir. But--dueling isn't a problem. It's only when I have to face some particular people--apart from James Potter, Lily Evans and Sirius Black, I could duel with anyone."

Olaf Lindberg was confused by the answer. He could understand the general problem with dueling. He had met a few people in his life who simply couldn't stand to hurt anyone, or something like that. He had assumed that this was the case with the boy. But now--why would he have something against facing those particular teenagers, if he had only known them for a week? Maybe he simply chose those which were the best in the subject, because he was afraid of losing?

His face didn't show any of his bewilderment though. Instead, he smirked at the boy's impertinence.

"You can fight with anyone? That's fine. You are going to fight me, then." He expected the boy to be at least disappointed, if not frightened by the prospect, but his assumptions were wrong. The boy breathed deeply and smiled, obviously relived.

"Thank you, sir. Now?"

"No. Tomorrow, after breakfast. It's late and you already have been in the hospital wing once today."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Good night, sir." With that, he turned on his feet and left, whistling merrily.

Lindberg only muttered "good night" to the closed doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily and Alice were astonished when they heard all the details about the meeting with Lindberg. It wasn't merely the nature of the demand of the teacher, but more the fact that Harry seemed so unperturbed.

Harry went up to his dorm early that evening. He didn't want to discuss anything with the others and really wanted to avoid his father and the rest of the Marauders tonight. He saw the four boys during dinner, but avoided them and sat in the other end of the table. He felt miserable enough without listening to some cruel remarks.

Ron followed Harry up the stairs as well, and so the girls were left alone in the common room. They talked about Harry, obviously.

Lily couldn't understand why Harry would, at first, act the way he did during the duel with James and then accept a much more challenging duel with the teacher. Deep inside, she was scared that he had done it because he wanted to impress her, and she didn't want him to be in danger for such a stupid reason. Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders at that and said that she was sure that his main reason was staying in the DADA class.

"I'd rather worry about how Harry will cope with all the teasing that he'll get from James and Sirius..." she said sadly.

"Oh, I told him plenty of times that he shouldn't worry about what do those jerks think about him. They are ruthless and stupid, never able to see further than their own noses." Lily was on her favorite topic. Whenever it came to this troublesome four, she could speak for half an hour without a pause. She was quite creative when it came to insults for Potter, Black, Lupin or Pettigrew. And this time, it seemed that it was even worse.

She had her back turned to the portrait hole, so she didn't notice when it opened and the four boys entered the common room. They were not talking, and when they saw the girls sitting by the fire, they stopped on their way up to the dorm.

James moved away from the group and took few uncertain steps in the direction of the girls. Lily was still oblivious to his presence, continuing with her "I hate Potter" rambling.

"Lily... shhh!" Hermione said when she noticed the boy standing close behind them. She was not sure whether his cheeks were red from embarrassment and anger or from the heat coming from the fireplace.

Lily turned around and blinked a few times when she saw the unhappy boy. She didn't like him, but she had no intention of hurting him. And she could see that her words had touched him. She felt a pang of guilt and was about to apologize when he spoke first, his fists clenched.

"Nice to know that you think so well about me, Evans. But you know what? I'm tired of this. I'm just tired of you blaming me for everything. Perfect-Miss-Prefect with your sympathy for chickens--I'm just tired of this..." He was pale now and his voice trailed off as he slowly realized what he had just said.

Lily's eyes opened wide. James Potter had never insulted her before, no matter what she said or did. In some incomprehensible way it hurt her, although she couldn't understand why, and she never would admit it to herself. She opened and closed her mouth few times, before her temper got better of her.

"Yes? Perfect-Miss-Prefect? At least I don't go around and throw hexes at people for no reason. I don't go around as if the school belonged to me. I don't go around and hurt people just because I don't like them!"

"Oh no, Evans, you never do that..." he said, both sarcastically and sadly, and then turned on his feet and stormed away.

Lily gaped at his retreating back for a while and then looked at her friends uncertainly.

"I--I think I'll go to bed..." she mumbled, and headed upstairs. Alice and Hermione both followed her, and Alice put her arm around Lily's shoulders comfortingly.

It was probably the only Friday when almost all the Gryffindor sixth-years went to sleep so early.