The next morning, Sprout walked around the tables distributing schedules and answering questions. He'd finished his own meal and was once again cleaning oatmeal off of Mo's face when she finally got to him. She waited patiently for him to finish up and put the washcloth away before handing him his schedule. He looked it over in confusion. For the most part, it made perfect sense, but under the names Potions, DADA, and Care of Magical Creatures was written, “(G+S)”.

“G and S?” he asked.

“The Sorting Hat made the rather unusual request that you take three of your classes with the Gryffindors and Slytherins. He wouldn't say why, but the Headmaster acquiesced, and chose those three. They can still be changed, if you wish.”

“No,” Tobias said confusedly, “no, that's fine. It's a little strange, but if the Headmaster wants it then it's not a problem to me.” Why would the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore want me in with the Snakes and Lions? he wondered. Unless this was Dumbledore's attempt to help him get back in contact with Ron and Hermione? But he wanted me away from them... It was strange.

“Well good. In that case, I would suggest you get to Divination. And go ahead and bring the little one with you – the Headmaster has said it is fine, so your teachers will just have to cope.”

“Thanks,” he told Sprout. “That's helpful.”

It was. He hadn't had any time the day before, to confirm with the Headmaster that he could take Mo with him to class. That Sprout had done so for him was thoughtful, and made him feel a bit more confident about the day.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yey, ladder, Tobias thought, looking up at the trapdoor that was supposed to take him to Divination. Mo was strapped into the carrier on his chest, and he had a backpack for his books, but then he had Mo's only-semi-portable play mat to get up there, somehow.

“Maybe if you climb up, and I hand it to you?” a voice said behind him.

He turned around to find a Ravenclaw girl that he vaguely recognized from the previous years. Well, maybe. Wasn't her hair longer, before? No, maybe he didn't recognize her at all. Certainly he would've remembered the tattoos. Or maybe she just had fewer tattoos? She was even more marked up and pierced than he was. She had 'sleeves,' like his, but hers were actual tattoos, not markings – they were colorful and showy, a varied tangle of flowered and tentacled magical plants that seemed to weave in and out among each other as she moved. Maybe they do, he realized. The tattoo guy who'd done his bat had mentioned that magical tattoos would sometimes move. Her piercings, at least, were stationary – a small hoop on her nose and lip, and three in each of her ears, in addition to a stud in her eyebrow. Her hair was blond, and cropped very short and somehow spikey. The overall effect was...odd, but somehow not ugly, especially when she smiled. She'd stayed at a bit of a distance, but the smile was tentatively friendly, and very welcome.

“That would be really helpful,” Tobias said, “thanks.”

Leaving the play mat at the bottom, he climbed the ladder and entered the smokey classroom. Ugh, that's no good. He'd had enough of the thick incense smell in his lungs to know he didn't want it in Mo's. Thinking for a second, he remembered the air-clearing spell he'd learned the year before in Charms, and cast it. Instantly the room cleared of smoke. Better.

“Hey,” he heard a boy off in the corner say, “who- oh.” He fell silent.

“Hi,” Tobias said. The boy didn't respond. Maybe he just didn't hear me.

“Hey, take your mobile thingy,” he heard the tattooed girl call up.

“Thanks,” he said, turning around and leaning down to grab it from her. She climbed up the ladder and clambered through the hole.

“Oh, good, you got rid of that dreadful smoke. It always gives me a headache,” she said.

“Ah, but my dear, the smoke is helpful to the opening of your inner eye,” Trelawney said, appearing through a door at one corner of the room.

“Yeah, well, it stinks,” the girl answered.

Trelawney looked distinctly affronted, but her voice didn't lose its usual misty tone. “It is Gula wood, and is said to help the brain to escape its normal boundaries, and see the true wonder and magic of the world,” she said.

“It's hallucinogenic?!” the girl asked, sounding appalled.

“It is illuminating, Cassandra,” Trelawney answered, “at least to those versed in its use, and open to the possibilities.”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Do you use it often, then?” Cassandra asked questioningly. Tobias snorted, earning himself a disgusted look from the Professor.

Deciding it was time to intervene, before Cassandra got herself into any real trouble, Tobias took the opportunity to introduce himself.

“Professor?” Trelawney turned and looked at him.

“Ah!” she said, sounding startled, “my inner eye tells me that you are Tobias Bâtard, the new fifth-year Hufflepuff.”

“Yes, that's me,” Tobias said. Yeah, because nobody noticed my arrival other than you, he thought sarcastically. “And this is Mo. I apologize about the smoke, but I have to be careful of her lungs, and she is...too young to appreciate its...'illuminating'...effects.”

This time it was Cassandra that snorted, and Trelawney turned her back on the girl entirely to talk to Tobias.

“Ah, yes, that is likely true, young man,” she said mysteriously. “But of course, those of your race must have a natural acuity of mind and spirit?”

“Perhaps,” Tobias said politically.

A couple other students had trickled in while they were talking, so Tobias finally got a chance to scope out a good spot while Trelawney's attention was on them. The classroom was round, so there was no real back, but he did manage to find a place against the wall, and near the trap door, that would allow both for easy exit in case Mo got upset, and relative quiet. He sat there, and set up Mo's play mat at his side before unstrapping her from her carrier and setting her in the mobile. To his relief, she immediately set to grabbing for the revolving toys, and ignored him entirely. Watching her, he only vaguely noticed Cassandra approach.

“You mind if I sit?” she asked him, indicating the spot across the table from him. “I want to check out your 'natural acuity of mind and spirit'.”

Tobias smiled. “No problem. Trelawney called you Cassandra?”

“Andra. Last name's Carson.”

“Tobias Bâtard.”

“Bâtard? You realize that means-” she cut off. “Why's your last name bastard?” she finished bluntly.

I'm gonna be a prince...but then he was determined to be himself, first. “Because I don't know who my father is,” he answered, just as blunt.

She laughed, blushing just a little. “And aren't I a bitch?”

“Only a little.”

“Well that's good, I suppose,” Andra told him. “Balance in all things.”

“Healthy,” Tobias agreed.

“Good day,” Trelawney said then, interrupting the conversations that had been building in the room, “and welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely – as, of course, I knew you would.

“You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L...”

Oh yeah, Tobias remembered suddenly. The O.W.L. That's supposed to be important. He'd forgotten about its very existence. Whoops.

“...Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little...”

And what if we don't? Tobias wondered suddenly. Are we just supposed to rot, then?

“...However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so...” she trailed off with a shrug. “Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on.”

Sighing, Tobias flipped open the leather-bound book on his desk, and started reading. He'd barely gotten a page in when a happy squeal from Mo drew stares from all over the room.

“Shhhh,” he told her absently, trying to ignore the stares and his very happy daughter to read the dry text. Would it be better if he picked her up, or left her on the floor? She generally liked being on his lap while he read.

The next happy squeal drew whispers and giggles, and he gave up. Leaning down, he lifted Mo up by her armpits, gently removing one of the revolving elephants from her hand, and set her on his lap to hold her against his chest with one hand. “Now shush.”

He went back to reading.

Fifteen minutes later, a tug alerted him to the fact that a length of hair had escaped from his long braid, and was getting eaten. Determined to get his reading done, he ignored it and read.

When Trelawney called for them all to start working with their partners, he had only managed to read half of the chapter. Frowning, he tried to flip through quickly for the gist, but was stopped by his partner.

“Don't,” said Andra, “there's a table in the back that makes a lot more sense, anyway. Page...24.”

Ravenclaw, Tobias remembered. Hermione always did admire their efficiency. “Nice,” he said.

Andra shrugged. “Hufflepuffs work hard, Ravenclaws work smart,” she said with some pride. It sounded like it might be their motto.

“Gryffindors don't work at all, and Slytherins pay someone off to work for them?” he suggested.

Andra laughed. “Or just pay off the Professor to give them the grade. So, dream anything recently?”

Dream? Well there was always the weird one with the corridor that came up every once in awhile. Or...wait.

“Yes, actually,” he said, frowning. I didn't realize I remembered this. It had been a very strange dream. “Promise not to laugh?”

“'Long as you don't laugh at mine,” Andra answered.

“Alright then,” Tobias agreed. “I dreamed that Madame Pomfrey was insisting that my wings were an unhealthy growth, and should be removed. Dumbledore seemed to disagree, but he also seemed to agree with Snape, who was convinced that they would be more valuable boiled into one of his potions. But then there was this weird shadowy King there, who said that the wings were an important symbol of my position in society. Any suggestions?”

Andra frowned sceptically. “Maybe let's look it up under wings?”

“Okay...” Tobias looked through the table in the back, which was helpfully organized alphabetically by category. “Wings. Representative of freedom, air, flight, and sometimes chaos.”

“Or just the fact that you have actual, physical, wings...” Andra pointed out.

“Not helpful,” Tobias answered acerbically.

“Yes, clearly it must have some greater meaning. Well, fine. They represent freedom, so you seem to think Hogwarts wants to remove your freedom and use it for Potions ingredients. Now King represents...” she frowned and flipped a couple pages in her textbook, “authority or an authority figure, opulence, power, see 'Chess'.”

“It wasn't a chess king,” Tobias said.

“Okay, a real king, then. So...know any kings?”

Tobias almost winced, but kept his face and tone smooth. “Let's just go with 'an authority figure'. So then, Hogwarts wants to boil up my freedom for potions ingredients, but some authority figure thinks it is important to my position in society?”

“Well that's clear enough, then,” Andra said cheerfully. “It is your destiny to leave Hogwarts and run off to join the gypsies, in order to allow yourself the freedom to fly. You will be supported in this by an important authority figure, who will also help you find your place in society.”

“Good, Cassandra!” Trelawney gushed, startling both of them with her sudden proximity, “perhaps your inner eye is more open than I had thought! But, Tobias, dear, beware your 'king'. Dark can merely mean secretive, or mysterious, and not indicate evil, but dangerous things can hide in the shadows.” She said it in her spookiest voice, but the advice actually made sense, given that he knew who this king actually was. Hmm.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After Divination, he had a short break, and took the opportunity to change and feed Mo before Potions. He was almost looking forward to the class, for once. Sprout had all but told him Snape couldn't do anything about him bringing Mo, and needling the man still gave him a perverse pleasure, though it was rarely worth the trouble it inevitably brought.

It still mildly disturbed him, how strange Snape had been around him lately, but he dismissed it from his mind. The man had hated him for absolutely no reason since the beginning of time, it seemed like. He probably just hated him more now because Tobias was People, or something. At any rate he wasn't going to agonize over it.

He arrived early to Potions, and chose a seat in the back, near the door so that if Mo got really disruptive he could leave easily. The other students trickled in afterward, conversations quieting as they caught sight of him. He hadn't really expected it to hurt – he should be used to it by now, after all – but it did. He'd forgotten, when Professor Sprout had asked him about taking some classes with the Slytherins and Gryffindors, that they would be the same Slytherins and Gryffindors. It came as a shock to see Seamus and Dean sit across the room from him, to stare and whisper. Neville gave him curious looks, surprisingly devoid of fear. Ron gave him a confused look as he came in, but sat near the other Gryffindors. Hermione came in afterward, and joined Ron. Nobody took the chair next to Tobias. The 'Puffs would have, he realized. So much for brave Gryffindors.

A sudden feeling made him tense and stand suddenly to face the door in a defensive crouch just as Draco Malfoy walked in, talking to his usual sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle.

“Woah woah relax, Fairy, nobody's going to hurt the little monster,” Malfoy exclaimed, obviously startled but still sounding disdainful.

Tobias found his lips lifting off his teeth in a fierce snarl as the words registered, a growl ripping its way out of his chest. Malfoy looked slightly alarmed. “Err...”

“Back off, Malfoy,” he bit out around his growls, feeling muscles bunch at the elf's proximity.

“You don't know me,” Malfoy answered arrogantly, “and I don't back off for anybody, especially not some stupid fifteen-year old Hufflepuff. Do you realize that you are addressing a nobleman?”

Tobias' snarls multiplied, and he found the small part of his brain that was not fully focused on getting the elf away from his child repeating a frantic mantra. He's a dumb kid, just a dumb kid, don't fucking kill him he's just being stupid he's not a threat. Just a dumb kid, don't kill him. Bloody Hell what is happening to me?

Draco was pale, but he didn't back off.

“Err...Draco...” one of the Slytherins started. “I don't think-”

“I would take Bâtard's advice, Mr. Malfoy. You've already proved yourself to be quite the mindless cretin, there's no need to get your 'noble' self killed as well,” Snape said sneeringly, entering the room behind the two of them.

Malfoy opened his mouth angrily, obviously ready to protest, but Snape just grabbed the back of his neck and marched him to a chair in the furthest corner from Tobias' seat. Malfoy sat sullenly, and Snape looked back to Tobias.

“Good enough, Mr. Bâtard, or do you remain determined to murder your fellow students?” the Professor asked sneeringly, turning to Tobias.

Sneer or not, he means the question, Tobias realized. He closed his eyes and took a breath, shaking as adrenaline from his sudden and violent response flowed through his body. When he opened them again, and looked at where Malfoy was sitting, he realized he could cope. Better than with Kahrn, at least. He nodded quickly, suddenly sharply aware of the other students' frightened stares. “Good enough.” He sat back down in his seat and held Moriyana, trying hard, once again, to ignore his peers' obvious fear.

“As Mr. Malfoy has so helpfully demonstrated,” Snape said to the class, “the fae are very sensitive about perceived threats to their young. He shouldn't react as strongly to you as he did to Mr. Malfoy, but don't be an idiot.”

Thanks, Snape, Tobias thought bitterly. Way to make it sound normal and acceptable. Not that he really thought it was particularly normal or acceptable, but still. And wait...how does Snape know so much about the fae? It was like he knew that Harry had reacted to Malfoy because Malfoy was an elf. Nah, he just knows that I already didn't like him. But then Snape was talking to him.

“And Mr. Bâtard, whatever you may think this room is not a playground, nor a nursery. The child has no place in here. You will leave her with someone else for the duration of this class, or you will leave yourself.”

“The headmaster has given me permission to bring her to class,” Tobias answered, carefully keeping his cool.

“Then take it up with him,” Snape said. “And in the meantime, find a babysitter.”

“I will put her back behind me where she'll be safe, but she stays with me,” Tobias retorted.

“If she stays with you, then leave,” Snape said dismissively.

“I'm staying, and she's staying,” Tobias answered, trying to hide his growing anger. “I was told that that was all right. If you do not like it, then take it up with the Headmaster who gave me his permission. I came to school in order to go to class, Professor, not to hang out in the dorms.”

The Professor walked stalked closer, and for a second Tobias thought that he would crowd him, the way he tended to do when he was trying to be especially intimidating, but then the man stopped six feet away. Good. He did not want his instincts to act up against Snape, if he could avoid it. Despite his distance, though, Snape's gaze was piercing and his voice authoritative as he bit out, “I instructed you to leave my classroom, Mr. P-Bâtard. You are to obey me.”

Refusing to be intimidated, Tobias argued back as calmly as he could, “I am paying my tuition, Professor. You are to teach me.”

The two of them glared at each other for a moment before a sadistic smile appeared on Snape's face.

“Detention, Mr. Bâtard.”

Tobias caught his breath, outraged. “For coming to class?”

“For disobedience and disrespect.”

And that, I can't fight, he realized. Fuck. He'd thought that along with his name, he'd lose his tendency to get the first detention of the semester, but apparently his record would follow him. Taking a deep breath, Tobias forced his face to smooth out as he faced Snape and asked politely, “At what time, Professor?”

“Six o'clock.”

Right on top of dinner. Tobias didn't give him a response, and was gratified to see that that seemed to irritate the man even further. I won, he realized suddenly. He can't kick me out, so he gave me the detention to save face. It helped, some. Damn Snape.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The rest of the class went smoothly enough. Mo didn't bother anyone, and just batted happily at the mobile attached to her portable play mat five feet behind Tobias, making the occasional happy noise but not getting loud. The class for the most part left the both of them alone, though it was clear that they were more frightened of him than they had been at the beginning of class. Even Ron gave him the occasional wide-eyed look. Hermione's glances, on the other hand, were more speculative in nature than frightened, and made him wonder whether he would be getting another letter from her soon. Whatever. His life really wasn't about them, anymore.

He also had more to worry about, at the moment, than them. As it turned out, Slytherin house had a lot of People in his year. Malfoy, of course, was an elf, and that was a shock in itself, but he, too, wasn't what worried him, once his instincts calmed down. He knew every Slytherin in the classroom from before – Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass. He had never noticed anything different about any of them, but Zabini was some sort of fae. Nott was...something. Not human, not elf, not fae, and not were. Just...something. And Crabbe and Goyle were both the same sort of strange-feeling fae. Mixed, maybe? But then they were happily hanging around Malfoy, an elf. Strange.

The most worrying by far, though, was Zabini. The sharp-eyed boy watched him and Mo for the entire class, looking very thoughtful.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When class finally ended, Harry left for his dorm to change his books over and feed and change Mo in peace. She needs a nap, he realized suddenly. Lunch wouldn't be long enough, but maybe if he brought her Moses basket to History of Magic? The class was boring and quiet enough that generally he wanted to sleep in it. With any luck, she would, too.

Ugh, lunch, he thought then. After his display in Potions, his reception in the Great Hall promised to be epic. It'll be like second year all over again. Tobias Bâtard is dangerous and out to kill us all! He smiled ironically. At least this time, I really am the Heir.

It was as bad as he expected. Every head in the room turned towards him as he entered. People pointed and stared and talked. Looking over to the Slytherin table, he saw Malfoy staring at him malevolently and talking loudly to his friends, obviously about him. He almost turned to leave, but he heard a gruff, “Don't.”

He turned and found himself facing one of the Hufflepuff seventh years who'd been introduced the year before as the Head Boy Travis Carlson.

“It won't get any better,” Travis continued. “You've heard of Harry Potter, I suppose?”

“Yeah...” Heard about him somewhere, I think.

“Well, he's not here anymore, but when he was it was just the same. Every time some bit of news or gossip came out about him, the whole school had to talk about it. Well now he's gone, and you're the next new interesting thing. It won't get any better for you leaving. Worse, actually.”

Tobias made a face. “What are they saying?”

“Well, it varies, honestly. About half seem to be of the opinion that you're scary as all hell, and about half are gloating over the fact that you scared the crap out of Draco Malfoy and got Snape to call him a cretin, and then turned around and stood up to the man himself.”

Half villain, half hero, Tobias thought, sighing mentally. As usual.

“So, yeah, not too bad, actually,” the other boy concluded. “You were brave enough for all that, you're brave enough to sit down long enough to eat.”

“Doesn't mean I want to, or have any real reason to, however,” Tobias retorted.

“Alright then,” Travis said, “how about this? I don't actually have the authority to make you stay, but I can tell Sprout that you didn't.”

“And she will...?” Tobias inquired.

“Cook you dinner herself, if needs be,” the Head Boy said, “and she's busy.”

Tobias thought it over. “You're kind of a bastard,” he finally said, somewhat amused.

“Definitely. Go eat.”

“Fine,” Tobias answered.

He threw his head up, boosted Mo higher on his shoulder, and walked to the Hufflepuff table. The first years stared at him fearfully as he went by, and he sped up, but promptly felt a hard tug on his robes. I get tugged on a lot, these days, he realized, turning to face Toby.

“What, Illatobe?” he asked irritably.

The first-year bit his lip. “I hear you has de-deten – trouble. Snape very mean. You be careful?”

Yes, I need an eleven-year-old to protect me from the Greasy Git. “I'll be fine.”

“Okay. I sorry. You go eat.”

Tobias shook his head. “Don't be sorry. It's not your fault I'm a jerk. Thanks for the warning.”

Toby smiled hugely. “You are not a jerk. You are nice.”

Tobias sighed. Great. I really wanted to be somebody's hero again. “Well, thank you. I'm going to go eat now.”

“Okay.”

Once again, he walked higher up the table. Looking forward to the other fifth-years, he saw Jody poke Esmeralda and point to him. He was readying himself to be repelled, but instead both girls shoved over and waved him to the space next to him. Relieved, he approached them and sat down.

“Hey. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Esmeralda answered.

“Ignore the others,” Jody told him. “They're just jealous that they don't have the teeth to scare Malfoy, or the balls to stand up to Snape. They'll have to get over it.”

He looked at them, confused. “You guys are nuts. You do realize that I really would have killed him, right?”

“Yeah, well, you told him to back off, didn't you?” Esmeralda answered. “And again, you're a Puff. If we can't accept you, nobody will.”

Yeah exactly, Tobias thought. I just figured nobody would.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

History of Magic was, as usual, dull, and vaguely unpleasant. As predicted, Binns didn't seem to even notice the change, but the students definitely did. They stared and whispered almost as badly as they had at lunch. The tone was a little different – there were a lot of giggles, rather than fear – but Tobias still decided to ignore the whole class and just focus on Mo. She'd been sort of hauled about all day, anyway, and he really needed to get her to nap. It was amazing she hadn't already thrown a fit through sheer tiredness.

And so he held and rocked her until she started to fall asleep, and tucked her into the Moses basket, which he'd switched out from the play mat at lunch. Then she was asleep, and he still had an hour left to the class. Great.

Well, at least maybe he could get the rest of his notes. He realized, though, when he looked up, that the staring had reduced, and that the class had separated out into little whispering groups of students, entertaining each other during the terribly boring class. He saw more than a couple little magic desk games going on, especially among the Hufflepuffs, and what actually looked like a study session among the Ravenclaws, though at least a couple of them seemed to be taking notes, too. Suddenly, one of the students in the study session looked up, and he realized it was Cassandra, the Ravenclaw whom he'd met that morning in Divination. Whispering quickly to the other students, who also looked up, Cassandra retrieved a sheet of parchment from one of the others, and slid it across the table at him. Frowning, he looked down at the parchment, and found himself looking at a full page of notes from the half-hour of class that he had missed trying to get Mo to sleep, with a note on top.

We realized that you might be having a bit of a hard time. Your daughter's adorable. Signed, Andra, Millie, Yolanda, and Flynn.

He looked up at the Ravenclaws, finding himself at a loss for words, but Cassandra just shrugged and smiled, and went back to taking notes. Deciding not to waste the Ravenclaws' kind efforts, he did the same.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Well, good afternoon!” Professor Umbridge greeted brightly to class when everybody got seated. Tobias was once again near the door, and Malfoy had wisely chosen to sit in the opposite corner of the classroom. Only a few students answered the greeting, and the new professor spoke up again.

“Tut, tut,” she said, “That won't do, now, will it? I should like you,please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” everyone chanted back. Mo squealed happily, drawing a giggle from the class, and the new Professor looked over once before frowning fiercely and looking away. It made her sickly sweet smile look even faker when it returned.

“There, now,” she said sweetly. “That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

Trying to ignore his disappointment – that sort of opening never bode well for the quality of the class - Tobias shoved his wand back into his bag and pulled out his quill, ink, and parchment. Seeing the quill, Mo squealed happily again and reached for it. He unfolded her play-mat and set it up under the table where he was sitting, and gave her her hippo. She happily blew spit-bubbles at him and started chewing on the hippo's nose. He smiled down at her. Good. Maybe now she'll stay quiet. It was a miracle that she'd been this patient in his classes so far. Almost done. Just this class, and then she can cry all she likes.

When he looked back up, there were words written on the board:

Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles

Basic Principles? After four years? But then the Professor was speaking, announcing how, as their previous training had been 'fragmented', they would now be following a 'Ministry approved' course of 'Defensive Magic', and asking them to copy down the 'Course Aims'.:

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

“Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

She got a vague 'yeah,' from a couple of people in the class.

“I think we'll try that again,” said Professor Umbridge patiently. “When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”

Oh, Merlin is she annoying. “Yes, Professor Umbridge,” he answered with the rest.

“Good,” said Professor Umbridge. “I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk.”

Of course there won't be. We don't talk because we desperately need to, we talk because we're desperately bored. Still, he opened his book to page five and started reading. Or tried. The book was so boring it felt like his brain refused to process the text. He read the same sentence five times without getting any meaning from it, and then Mo was whining. Giving up on his reading, he lifted her out of the play-mat, praying that all she wanted was contact. She quieted, and he held her with one arm while once again making a stab at the reading. Deadly bored once again, he looked up five minutes later to find that Hermione hadn't even opened her book in the first place, but instead sat with her hand in the air, staring fixedly at the Professor and waiting. The Professor was doing her level best to ignore her, but the rest of the class was getting interested in the silent struggle.

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge finally asked, as if she'd only just noticed her.

“Not about the chapter, no,” Hermione said.

“Well, we're reading just now,” said Professor Umbridge. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”

Helpful, thought Tobias. And you're not going to get Hermione to give up on a question. Anybody could tell you that.

“I've got a query about your course aims,” said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. “And your name is-?”

“Hermione Granger,” answered Hermione.

“Well, Miss Granger,” the Professor said with carefully-maintained sticky sweetness. “I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.”

So we're not allowed to ask about them? Tobias wondered with increasing irritation. He really didn't like the woman, already, though he couldn't have said why. Sure, she was annoying, but he'd known her for less than half an hour.

“Well, I don't,” said Hermione bluntly. “There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

Tobias looked back over to the course aims. Damn, she's right. What's this class for?

“Using defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge said with a little, incredulous laugh. “Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?”

How thick is she?

“We're not going to use magic?” Ron repeated loudly.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.-?”

“Weasley,” said Ron, raising his hand aggressively.

The Professor turned her back, obviously ignoring him. Deciding it was time to intervene, Harry raised his hand. So did Hermione. The Professor ignored him entirely and called Hermione.

“Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?”

Is that the new word for 'teacher'? Tobias wondered, and since when do we need an educational degree to realize that there's a war on?

“No, but-” Hermione tried.”

“Well, then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-”

“Excuse me?” Tobias finally asked.

“Hand, Mr. Bâtard!” sang the Professor triumphantly.

He raised his hand, and, as expected, she ignored it, turning away from him. Unfortunately for her, a lot of other people had hands raised now, as well.

“And your name is?” she asked Dean Thomas.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr. Thomas?”

“Well, Professor, if we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free-”

“I repeat,” said the Professor, still smiling that sickening smile, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but-”

Professor Umbridge just kept talking. “I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” she said, still smiling. Sure you don't, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh and stared straight at Tobias, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” Dean Thomas started, “he was the best we ever-”

“Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying – you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-”

“No we haven't,” Hermione protested, “we just-”

“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!”

Once again the Professor turned away from her raised hand. Tobias had had enough.

“Respectfully, Professor,” he started.

“You hand, Mr. Bâtard!”

He clenched his teeth and ignored her. “Respectfully, Professor,” he said carefully, “many of the students here have been under attack in the past. A Death Eater came to the school just last year and posed as a Professor. You cannot blame us for wanting to be able to defend ourselves.”

“Defend yourselves from what, Mr. Bâtard?” she said without turning towards him.

“Your Ministry may not accept it, Professor,” he said carefully. I am Tobias, not Harry, “but the People have good intelligence indicating that your Lord Voldemort has, in fact, returned.”

There were gasps from the entire class, and for once, the Professor looked at him. “The People, Mr. Bâtard? You mean 'people' like you?” She put a slight irony on the word 'people', as if to imply that he was nothing of the sort. He found his lip lifting off his canines.

“Yes, I mean People like me. We know that what your 'Boy Who Lived' has said is correct. Lord Voldemort returned last spring.” He didn't add that she no-doubt already knew that. It wouldn't be politic.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Bâtard.”

The room was silent – everyone either staring at Umbridge or Tobias, and most at him. If I flip, they'll decide I'm crazy or bestial.

“Now, let me make a few things quite plain,” Professor Umbridge said almost menacingly. “You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie.”

“So you would dispute my entire government and the word of one of your most famous citizens who claims to have seen and fought with him?”

“Detention, Mr. Bâtard!” she said, once again sounding triumphant. “This evening. Five thirty. My office.”

“I already have one with Professor Snape,” he answered, feeling almost smug. Go me, the delinquent. “At six.”

“His will be moved,” the Professor answered. “Now, I will repeat. This is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark Wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark Wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'”

She sat behind her desk, clearly thinking she was done. Fuming, Tobias stood. I am Tobias. I have no connection to this. It was hard to remember that, when he'd never spoken of it to anyone, even as Harry. “So you believe that Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” he asked, voice shaking as he contained his growls.

“Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident,” she said coldly.

“So your Ministry cannot identify the killing curse on a body, then? Or have you bothered? Harry Potter obligingly brought it back for you, did he not? The boy – a student here, and a friend of Potter's – was murdered, and you're telling me you couldn't even cast a Priori Incantatum? Or do you know, and you're just denying it because you are frightened?”

Professor Umbridge's face went totally blank. For a moment he was unsure whether she would scream or faint, but then she spoke in that same, horrible, girly tone. “Come here, Mr. Bâtard, dear.”

That was a problem, he realized, calming a little as he had to solve the problem. Did he walk away from Mo, or bring her closer to the Professor? To his surprise, Blaise Zabini stood and walked over next to Mo. “Okay?” he whispered.

He didn't know Zabini very well, but the offer seemed sincere, and it was better than leaving Mo alone. Tobias looked in his eyes and relaxed. Somehow, Slytherin or not, Zabini exuded a steady trustworthiness that was enormously reassuring.“Yes, thank you,” he said. He turned and walked to the Professor, who pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag and scribbled something on it. A minute or so later, she tapped it with her wand, and it rolled up and sealed.

“Take this to Professor Sprout, dear,” she said.

He gave her an angry smile, showing teeth such that she backed up a full step. He smiled wider and turned to return to Mo. Blaise backed off as soon as he was there, and he gave the other boy a grateful smile before picking Mo up and putting her in her carrier, packing up her stuff, and left. Nobody in the class said a word, but they all watched his exit.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It took Tobias a bit of time to find Sprout's office, but then he realized she was probably in the greenhouse anyway, and went there. Sure enough, she was there and pruning some sort of enormous plant that hissed at her as she scolded it affectionately.

“Well you know very well you won't flower as well if I don't do this. I don't care if you don't like it, it's going to happen and that's it! No, you give that back- oh, Tobias! Problems, dear?”

“Probably,” Tobias said.”I've been sent to bring you this.” He handed her the roll of parchment. “It's from Professor Umbridge.” He stopped talking to let her read. When she had finished, she fixed him with a surprisingly sharp glance.

“So, already you're causing trouble. First Professor Snape – and yes, I did hear about that – and now Professor Umbridge.” Her lips pursed as she said the woman's name, and Tobias wondered suddenly if she liked the woman any better than he did. “Well, it says here you accused her of lying, insulted the Ministry, and claimed Voldemort is back. I would assume that's true?” Tobias nodded. “And I trust you realize what she is here for?” He nodded again. “Well, then,” the matronly woman continued, “what possessed you to tick the woman off?” She sounded barely cross, but he could tell she meant the rebuke.

“I just told the truth,” Tobias defended. “She was lying, and Voldemort is back, and the Ministry is being fishy about it.”

“And in a lovely, idealistic world it was the best thing you could do to stand up to her,” Sprout agreed, “but surely you know better than that!”

Tobias frowned. “The Ministry has very little control over me, anyway,” he answered. “What can they do?”

“She may have little control over you, but she has significant power here, young man, and you'd do well to remember it! She can't put pressure on you, but she can probably force the school to expel you, and even if she can't, she can certainly fail you, which would require you to either repeat the year or leave. The headmaster wants you here, but his power is waning. Don't you ever forget that!” her tone was the sternest he'd yet heard from her. “As it is, you've got an entire week of detentions with her, and nothing I can do about it. She can do a lot worse. You're going to have a hard enough time here without courting trouble.”

Great, Tobias realized. Sprout was right. The last thing he needed right now was to piss off the Ministry, or to cause himself any trouble with professors at Hogwarts. Screwed up, again. When am I going to learn this?

Sprout was already smiling at him again. “Aww, don't look so glum. If nothing else, you might've convinced some of your classmates, and that can only be a good thing.”

He shook his head. “She really gave me five detentions, for that?”

“And nothing anybody can do about it,” Sprout confirmed. “You'll go, and you'll behave yourself.”

He smiled at her. “Yes Ma'am.”

She sighed. “Honestly, Tobias, six detentions on your first day?”

Yeah, Tobias realized with his own sigh. That's a record, even for me. “Six unfair detentions,” he felt impelled to grumble. It was childish, but it made him feel better.

“Hmm...” Sprout said. “You could have handled both situations better.”

“Yeah, but what fun would that be?” he finally said. “I'm the school's new delinquent. This is what I do.”

Sprout frowned. “You're not a delinquent. That's what is so frustrating.”