Blushing red to the roots of her scarlet hair, Ginny Weasley jumped of the sorting stool and scurried across to the applauding Gryffindor table.

"Way to go Gin!" Ron grinned. Ginny smiled shyly, her brown eyes flickering across to her brother's best friend. On catching a glimmer of green, she dropped her gaze, her flush deepening to crimson.

There was a slight scraping sound and the hall fell into a respectful silence, hundreds of eyes falling upon the fuchsia robed form of one Albus Dumbledore.

"Welcome, welcome. Here we are, at the start of another year" he intoned. "I have a couple of announcements to make before we commence our customary, start-of-term feast. Firstly, it brings me great joy to announce that, for the first time, we will be playing host to a contingent of students from 'Ms Cackle's Academy'…"

"Where?" Harry asked, his sable eyebrows knotting.

"It's a primary school." Hermione replied in a fierce whisper.

"Who will be accompanied by their esteemed teacher, Ms Hardbroom. Ms Hardbroom, an accomplished Potioneer, will be taking Potions Classes as of next week."

Ron grinned "So old Snape's out on his arse…"

"Secondly, I am sure that you or, if not, your parents have noticed that there were no new Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks prescribed this year. I am very pleased to announce that, for the next term, your Defence periods will be dedicated to learning the art of duelling…"

A tight, excited silence descended; every gaze was focused upon the Headmaster's kindly, bearded face.

"under the expert tuition of Professor Snape, who is an international champion."

As Slytherin broke into hearty applause, the Gryffindor table groaned like a Spanish galleon on a stormy sea. Apart from the first years, only Percy, Hermione and Harry clapped.

"How can you want Snape teaching Defence?" Ron grumbled, raising his head from his arms and scowling at his best friend.

Harry scratched his tousled, raven hair, looking uncomfortable; "Well, suspecting him of helping Vold… You-Know-Who and everything was well out of line."

"He's still a git." The redhead muttered, hoisting a huge, steaming pasty onto his plate.

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped, her dark eyes narrowing.

"Sorry Professor." Ron replied through a mouthful of mashed potato.

As Harry helped himself to a handful of chips, he risked darting a glance to the top table. Green eyes met hard obsidian but, instead of glaring or looking away, Harry nodded, his gaze neutral. Snape raised a sable eyebrow and, not wanting to push his luck, Harry looked away.

"Think he still hates me?"

"Honestly, he doesn't hate you" Hermione replied, batting a lock of curly brown hair off her shoulder and looking at Harry with serious brown eyes. "You just got off on the wrong foot"

"Does Snape have a right foot?" Ron grinned.

"Haven't seen him hopping" Fred (or was it George) called from a few seats down. Blushing, Ron stuck out a gravy coated tongue at his twin brothers.

"Ewww…"

"You're not going to put that back in your mouth…"

"Are you?"

"Boys!" Hermione hurrumphed, before turning to speak to Ginny.

OoOoO

"Settle down at the back" Percy said imperiously, gesturing a couple of shy first years to the front of the rough semi-circle of Gryffindors, sitting cross legged around their common-room fire.

"Thank you, Percy" Professor McGonagall nodded, a small smile tugging at her thin mouth. When the obsequious prefect had sat down, she addressed the children.

"For those of you who do not know me, I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and, usually, the Head of Gryffindor House."

Hermione cocked her head, eyebrows drawn together.

"Our forthcoming visit from Ms Cackle's Academy is the outcome of many long years of effort on the part of Professor Dumbledore and myself. As many of you might know, the Academy, and its wizarding counterpart, the Dunney Institute, did not admit muggle students and… Yes Miss Granger?"

Hermione lowered her hand "Why do they not enrol muggle students, Professor?"

"I was just coming to that. The arguments against the admission of muggleborns were thus; firstly, at eight years of age, it remains uncertain whether a muggleborn will be truly capable of magic. Although this is the case with any magical child, some have argued that informing a muggleborn child before it is certain that they have the power would be unfair and possibly even dangerous" Mcgonagall's lips thinned and she breathed heavily through her nose, attempting to recompose herself.

"Secondly, it has been argued that, due to cultural differences, it is really too early to begin their training, that it would be too much, too soon, and, thirdly, both the Academy and the Institute are private schools and, therefore, beyond the pocket of most families."

Harry frowned; that didn't seem fair. If Hogwarts was free, why couldn't those other schools be? Everyone should have a right to education. He glanced over to Hermione, who, despite her alert interest, was also frowning.

"However," Professor McGonagall added, her hazel eyes sparkling "Professor Dumbledore has long disputed the validity of these arguments and, this summer, the Wizengamot have passed legislation entitling muggleborns to enter the Ministry-run scholarship scheme."

"Unfortunately" she said, in a voice of forced calm, "whereas the Dunney Institute immediately amended its enrolment procedure, the Academy has yet to be convinced. Professor Dumbledore, therefore, has invited the Academy to visit Hogwarts for a term, in order to strengthen ties between the schools and allow their deputy headmistress, Miss Hardbroom, to observe the excellent work ethic, magical ability and maturity of even the youngest of our muggleborn students."

Hermione's hand hit the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Earlier on, you said you were "usually" the Head of Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall. Is that going to change?"

"Ah, yes" the elderly witch smiled indulgently at her best and brightest pupil. "The Academy, like Hogwarts, is run using a house system and if the Academy accepts muggleborns, Miss Hardbroom, as Head of Pegasus House, will be personably responsible for some of the new students. Therefore, I have decided to step down as head of Gryffindor in order to enable Miss Hardbroom to meet with students on a more pastoral basis."

"Permanently?" George asked, paling.

"No, Mr Weasley, just for this next term. It is a great honour, children; in each of your hands lies the opportunity to change the world for the better. Possibly the muggleborns among you have younger sisters who would benefit from a scholarship to Ms Cackle's Academy. Perhaps you might have benefited yourselves, either through the opportunity to attend the Academy or the chance to meet your current friends earlier." McGonagall paused, her eyes serious "We have one term to impress Miss Hardbroom and I have every confidence that you will all uphold the pride of Gryffindor and prove yourself worthy of your house."

"Now, I think it's time for you all to get to bed; you've all had a long journey and tomorrow will be a busy day. Goodnight."

Yawning, Ron stood, stretching out his long muscles "Wish she could have waited till tomorrow, I'm dead tired."

"Ron! That was very important."

"It still could have waited until morning."

As Hermione stamped off fuming, Ron turned to Harry "She's just miffed 'cos she missed out on three extra years of school. Girls, eh?"

Harry nodded, privately thinking that Hermione had the right idea; the thought that he could have escaped Privet Drive three years earlier… Pity no one had told him.

oOoOo

"And, naturally, my father is simply appalled that Dunney, his Alma Mater, is to open its doors to mudbloods…"

"Ignore him" Hermione muttered, dragging Ron and Harry by their robe sleeves past Draco to the Gryffindor table.

"Malfoy is such a jerk," Ron muttered, grabbing a muffin and hacking it in half. "Makes me glad I didn't go to Dunney."

Helping herself to porridge, Hermione admonished him "Don't let him get to you, Ron. We have to make a good impression on Miss Hardbroom, remember."

"She's not here yet!" Ron replied, splashing tomato sauce over his fried egg and bacon.

"You'll need all the practice you can get!"

Glaring, Ron stabbed his egg onto a slice of toast and shoved the gooey mess into his mouth.

"Um, what's she like, this Hardbroom woman?" Harry asked, to breach the simmering silence.

"Dead strict, from what I've heard" George replied, sitting down.

"She was at school with Mum and Dad" Fred added.

"A Prefect…" George finished, shrugging his shoulders as if that said it all.

"I've heard she was a great flier, though" Lee said, grabbing the brown sauce off Fred. "Played for the Harpies in her twenties."

"Can't be too bad, if she likes Quidditch."

"Snape likes Quidditch," Seamus corrected "He's always at the games, even when Slytherin isn't playing."

"He's just interested in getting one over McGonagall." Ron scoffed, now piling sausages on top of his scrambled-egg bedecked toast.

Looking up from her text book, Hermione grumbled "Give it a rest, Ron. You should be grateful to him."

"Why?" Dean asked, his dark eyes alight with interest. "Has it got something to do with…"

"I'm well looking forward to Duelling lessons" Harry interrupted "What do you recon he'll be teaching us?"

"Probably defensive magic" Hermione replied, closing her book and stowing it in her bag. "It struck me as rather strange that we didn't learn any of the main spells last year…"

"Yeah, because Quirrell would have wanted us to know them, right" Ron said, rolling his blue eyes.

"Yes, well, I did use the past tense, Ron!'

"What?"

"It means like when you use the form of the word that refers to the past. Like 'I sat' rather than 'I sit'." Harry explained.

"Anyway" Hermione continued firmly "I think we should give Professor Snape a chance. He might be very different as a Duelling teacher."

"How come?"

"Teaching Potions, Ron, involves highly explosive substances and children, most of whom are too busy gossiping and passing notes to pay attention" Hermione retorted sniffily.

"She has a point, Ron."

"Not you too, Harry!"

Harry shrugged his narrow shoulders; "Well, it must be dead stressful, not knowing if the next class is going to laminate themselves to the ceiling."

"Indeed it is, Mr. Potter."

Harry's tousled, raven head whipped round in time to feel the tail of Snape's billowing cloak bush against his cheek. Breath silent in their lungs, the children watched as the most dreaded Master in Hogwarts strode sedately up to the top table.

"Close one mate." Ron finally whispered. "Thank Merlin we've not got him till tomorrow afternoon!"

oOoOo

The defence classroom was dark, the windows shuttered with immense tapestries which rewove warp and weft to create images of werewolves, vampires, ghouls and inferi. Only the flickering oil lamps, which cast mutating shadows across the grey, stone floor. Huddled together, the students sat at the stained desks, listening to the sound of their breath breaching the heavy silence.

"Expelliarmus!"

Wands ripped from startled hands and fought their way out of pockets, prodding many an unwary buttock as they did so. Two dozen heads jerked around in time to see a long, pale hand catch the slender batons between tapered fingers.

"The disarming spell; expelliarmus." Snape intoned, striding along the rows of desks, throwing wands back to their wide eyed owners as he went. "Many duellists eschew this simple, highly efficient spell because their opponents" he sneered, revealing yellow teeth "their opponents are alert and focused upon their person. However, the duelling ring is not the real world. Battlefields are not brightly lit rooms with clear floors and your enemies will not be sportsmen; they will not give you a countdown to battle, nor even announce their presence before cursing you. In the real world, sportsmanship is not important, winning points is not important. Staying alive is important and, to do this, you need to render the enemy incapable as quickly as possible."

Spinning around in a whirl of inky hair and sighing silk, Snape pointed to the blackboard; "Expelliarmus: the disarming charm. Take your enemies' wands, break them."

Hermione tentatively raised a hand. The Duelling Master looked at her, his dark eyes hard as obsidian.

"Um, what about wandless magic?"

"Wandless magic, Miss Granger, is invariably weaker; the range of spells is reduced, as is the power behind them and their duration. Only one wizard has the raw power to cast the killing curse without a wand and" Snape paused significantly "If he decided to kill you, I doubt that you would have the opportunity to cast beyond the first syllable."

"You will each take a notebook from my desk" Snape indicated a pile of cheap, spiral-bound books "and transcribe the spell and its function. Once you have completed this task, you will form pairs and practice the spell. Any questions? No? Then get on with it."

Chairs scraped as the children scrambled up from their seats. Harry, slipped past the scum of students and grabbed four books, which he handed to Ron, Hermione and Neville, who had looked at the clever girl beseechingly; if anyone could get him through this class, she could.

"Sir" a Slytherin boy said, "I don't have a partner, Theo's sick, you see…"

Dark eyes scanned the students and came to rest on Harry and Ron "Time to break up the dream team. Weasley, partner Zabini. Let me stress that no wands are to be broken this lesson."

"Um, Sir?" Harry asked, in his most respectful tone.

"What?"

"Um, I've not got a partner… should I join Hermione and Neville?"

Cold, hard eyes, like chips of jet, looked down that long, hooked nose at the nervous boy. "You may attempt to cast expelliarmus on me."

"Okay, Sir." Harry squared up and raised wary green eyes to that angular, haughty face; up close, Snape towered, his long, slender limbs making him seem all the taller.

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand barely twitched "Pitiful. Luck will only take you so far, Potter."

Harry counted silently to ten before screwing his face up in effort and shouting "Expelliarmus!"

"Contortions" Snape sneered "and volume are no replacement for concentration, Potter."

Reddening at Malfoy's snigger, Harry gritted his teeth; okay, focus. Focus.

"The ability to clearly visualise an objective is, it seems, well beyond your meagre abilities."

"Expelliarmus!"

The dark-wood wand scythed through the air and hit the opposite wall with a crack.

Green met obsidian. Snape smirked "Adequate."

The dour Professor turned on his heel, stalking to his desk in a whirl of billowing robes.

"Well done, mate" Seamus whispered "Showed him proper, you did!"

Harry smiled ruefully "At least he passed me."

oOoOo

"Want a game of chess, Harry?"

"I don't know, Ron" Harry replied, scrubbing at his dark mop of hair. "I haven't done the potions reading yet."

"Wha… It's just a list of instructions, like a recipe; you read it as you go along!" Ron gaped.

"Which is why you got "Troll" when I was in the infirmary last year" Hermione said sniffily, looking up from her potions textbook.

Harry smiled ruefully at Ron, whose ears were now the same shade as his maroon pyjamas. "Later, mate. Give me half an hour, okay?"

oOoOo

Snape peered into Harry's cauldron. "Mr. Potter, can you explain why this draught is ochre?"

"Um… because I followed the instructions correctly, sir."

"Do not presume to be smart with me, boy! Your potion should be yellow. This is almost brown."

Harry took a deep breath "Sorry, Sir. I thought it was okay."

"You did not dice the bears-foot finely enough. The instructions clearly say two millimetre slices."

"Sorry, Sir." Harry replied, in his best 'sincere' voice. "Is there anything I can do?"

Snape snorted "Not at this stage, no. Bottle your potion and place it on my desk."

As Snape strode away to berate Neville, Harry sagged.

"You shouldn't let him speak to you like that." Ron grumbled "Your potion is yellow, he's just being an arse."

Shrugging his bony shoulders, Harry replied "Answering back just makes things worse. Besides, at least he's going to mark it this time."

Ron shook his head "Pearls before swine, mate. He's never going to change."

oOoOo

The Great Hall practically buzzed with anticipation; at each table, students were sitting bolt upright, robes pressed and shoes shined. Every scrubbed face was turned towards the doors, every ear strained to catch the soft tramp of feet in the entrance hall. Dumbledore, in his best violet, gold-trimmed robe, was standing, flanked by his staff, waiting. Waiting.

The newly polished brass doorknob turned and Hagrid, in his best hairy brown suit, with a cabbage rose in his button-hole and a mane spangled with of the broken teeth of combs, threw the door open and stood behind it.

A plump, round faced woman with a kind smile and rather ornate horn-rimmed glasses entered, followed by a crocodile of eight little girls, all dressed in neat, grey pinafores which were each tied with a silk sash of either purple, pink, peach or teal.

"She doesn't look so bad" Neville whispered to Harry.

"Ssssh!"

As the girls filed into the hall, another figure stepped through the shadowy hallway. A curtain of jet black hair surrounded the long, thin, pointed face, further sharpened by razorblade cheekbones, a long, hooked nose and eyes harder than black diamonds. The six foot, rail thin figure was clad in a tight, grey and black striped gown.

"Since when has Snape worn a dress" Ron burbled.

Harry swallowed "I think… I think that might be Ms. Hardbroom."