After Harry had eaten, he had to admit that he felt a little bit better. Going over his conversation with Snape, he flushed, but at least he hadn’t whined that he’d wanted the man to be pleased with him. He wondered where on earth that had come from; Snape was easily the teacher he was least close to. He liked Professor Flitwick more than Snape – even Trelawney.But, he realized slowly, he had no desire to impress either of those Professors; Snape and Dumbledore and possibly McGonagall held that enviable spot in his heart. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at himself in his choice of patrons: the evil git, the beneficent grandfather of the Wizarding World and the straightlaced Head of House didn’t really seem to go together.

Still slightly embarrassed of all he’d said, Harry was heartened by the fact that Snape assumed Harry would be back in his class once he’d gotten his grades squared away, and was startled that the other man had cottoned to his physical predicament so rapidly.

He met up with Ron and Hermione in Charms. Hermione was horrified.

“I can’t believe it!” she whispered, her voice clipped and furious. “He can’t just do that, Harry! He burned your assignments!” This desecration more than anything else seemed to have appalled Hermione. “He won’t get away with this,” she said in a dark voice, the repetition giving Harry goosebumps. “He won’t.”

Ron and Harry eyed her worriedly.

“Don’t, er, kill him or anything, Hermione,” Harry urged her.

She blinked. “Kill him? No, no, would never imagine it. No, he’s due far worse...”

Ron gulped. “Did he really toss you out, Harry?”

“Yeah, but he met up with me later and told me I’d probably be back in the class soon,” he said loudly, hoping Hermione would overhear.

Hermione had partnered with Neville, and was stubbornly avoiding the conversation.

“That’s downright pleasant, for Snape,” Ron remarked clearly. He lowered his voice, turning to Harry. “You don’t suppose she really means it, do you? What do you think she’ll do?”

Harry grinned. “Try ‘Crucio’. Nothing less for murdered assignments...”

“That’s not funny,” Ron said, the seriousness of the statement somewhat overshadowed by the fact that he was laughing.

“You know Hermione finds schoolwork sacred,” Harry filled in. “This is rather obviously a capital crime, in her books.”

Ron sniggered.

“It’s a capital crime in my books, too,” Harry tacked on. “I mean, I worked so hard... stayed up all hours...”

“You were down to the wire, too,” Ron remarked sympathetically.

“But I got it all done! And now...”

“...gone,” Ron finished. “I see, mate, really I do. Care to try this charm anytime soon?”

“Oh.” Harry frowned at the list before him. Like Snape, Professor Flitwick had decided to start off with a review of the charms they were already supposed to know. Harry squinted down at the list, grinning at Ron. “It’s safe to say we know this one, but...”

Together, they pointed at their quills. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Charms, Harry decided, had gone wonderfully. He, Ron and Hermione had spent so much time on charms in the past that it was impossible to imagine any of them forgetting even one. Neville, on the other hand, had a bit of trouble with a handful of the charms, which meant it was just as well that Hermione had partnered him. If he hadn’t been so hopeful that Hermione and Ron would stop arguing one day, Harry mused, he might see hope for she and Neville; the bushy-haired girl had developed an instinct for when Neville needed help, and precisely how much. In return, Neville treated Hermione with an unfailing courtesy that bordered on awe.Defense Against the Dark Arts was next, and although Harry hadn’t seen Professor Lupin at breakfast, he knew that meant nothing. In all likelihood, the Professor was sleeping off the effects of the full moon, and had been exempt from the usual staff breakfast.

Sure enough, when Harry entered, Professor Lupin was standing there in one of his old-fashioned suits, looking particularly pleased with himself. Harry remembered the Professor as wan and pale near the full moon, but now Lupin seemed bright and eager to begin class, the dark circles beneath his eyes the only hint that he’d been a wolf the night before.

Harry grinned when he surveyed the class, which was made primarily up of members of the old D.A.: Neville, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Lavender, both Patil sisters, Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were amongst the fifteen students packed into the rather small classroom. Draco Malfoy, he noted, was as well. He was beginning to wonder irritatedly how many of his classes he still shared with the Slytherin boy.

“Well, well,” Professor Lupin said, surveying them. “An unusually large crop of Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts students, isn’t it? The largest in eight years, I’m told. Would I be remiss to assume that this is due to the instruction you received last year from Harry?”

Draco sneered, but the sneer faltered. Scanning the desks again, Harry realized that Draco was the only Slytherin in the room. Perhaps Hermione was right; Draco’s sneer only worked in the proper company.

“Now, I could certainly do with a quick summary of all you covered last year.”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Yes, Hermione?”

“We covered Expelliarmus, Impedimenta, Stupefy, Protego, Petrificus Totalis, Diffindo, Expecto Patronum...”

“And the tickling curse,” Neville tacked on.

Hermione rewarded him with a grin. “Yes, and that as well.”

“An excellent spectrum of curses and counter-curses,” Lupin praised, beaming at Harry. “Any analysis of Dark creatures, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “It was only a practicum, sir,” he replied with a shrug. “I couldn’t very well procure a vampire and trap it for my–” Here he was going to say ‘students’, and faltered. “Friends.”

“Fair enough,” Lupin conceded, with a small nod. “Next lesson we will start on analysis of Dark creatures, then. For now, follow me.” He moved to the door, leading the sixth-years down to the side of the Quidditch pitch. A cool wind was blowing across the open field, making Harry shiver. He recalled very clearly Lupin’s very first lesson on boggarts; it made even more sense now, the first lesson for Defense being the ability to laugh at your fears. Two years ago, they had been laughing and exclaiming over Lupin’s lesson – Dark Arts had still seemed an impossibility to most of them, with just enough danger to seem exciting. Now, they moved out into the open wind like soldiers, quiet and stern-faced, even the normally giggly Lavender Brown, and lined up silently before Professor Lupin.

“I will partner you with another student,” Lupin said in his soothing, even voice, “and you will duel. By duel, I mean by the most stringent of rules: your partner casts a hex, you repel and/or counter. You cast a hex, your partner repels and/or counters. Nothing in between. There will be plenty of time for more realistic dueling later in the term. If I see so much as a Lumos out of turn, you will be removed from this class, never to return. Am I understood?”

There were faint nods and murmurs.

“All right. Hermione, Harry. Ron, Neville. Draco, Justin. Padma, Parvati. Lavender, Hannah. Ernie, Dean. Sarah, Noel. And Zacharias, you’re with me.” Lupin watched as the students paired up, much as Harry had done at D.A. meetings, nodding with approval as they moved rapidly. “Nothing painful, children. Begin.”

Hermione immediately cast Impedimenta, but Harry was ready for her, and deflected the curse easily. “Stupefy,” he announced, rather languidly. He had no desire to get the better of Hermione. Even though he knew he was quicker than she was, she would be insufferable for days if he dispatched her too easily.

Hermione deflected the curse and scowled, thinking. “Protego,” she snapped.

Harry frowned. He hadn’t yet cast anything...

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione tacked on, and Harry’s wand nearly slipped from his fingers –

“Protego!” He managed to catch it with the tips of his fingers.

They eyed one another more warily, Hermione’s lips twitching up into a pleased grin. “Your turn,” she said.

Harry paused in thought. Hermione was going to be tricky about this, he knew it. He was wondering what he could do to fool her, and decided to try something new. “Nox,” he incanted.

To his surprise, a small pocket of darkness grew around the two of them, until they appeared to be standing in their very own little patch of night. Hermione was blinking, still trying to get her night-vision.

A loud bang sounded right by Harry’s ear, or so it sounded; when he turned, Lupin was smiling grimly at them all. “Good, very good. You’ve all improved tremendously. Switch, now, with the party to your right.”

Harry turned to find Justin Finch-Fletchley leading Hermione off to the side, making her laugh. Which meant...

Draco Malfoy.

When Harry moved to face Draco, he saw that the other boy looked grim and fey, and did his best to match the expression. “You first,” Harry said graciously.

Draco snorted, but didn’t refuse. He was Slytherin, after all.

“Begin!”

“Serpensortia!” Draco cast a huge snake at Harry.

“Lumos!” The snake fled from the bright light and disappeared into the brush.

“Corpascus Incarnata!” A dementor flew out of Draco’s wand, or seemed to. Even though Harry knew it was an illusion... “Expecto Patronum!” A bright, silvery stag leapt across the field, chasing the false dementor away.

“Reducto!”

“Protego!” Harry said quickly. Draco had been pointing his wand at Harry himself with that Reducto... Harry wondered if he really would have survived that, had it hit. His lips thinned. “Petrificus –”

“Protego! Diffindo!” Draco shot back, pointing his wand at Harry’s.

The wand did not break, but gained a hairline crack running up one side. “Reparo!” Harry intoned, not happy that this spell did absolutely nothing to his opponent.

“Morsmordre!” Draco snapped, taking the time to analyze Harry’s reaction.

Harry knew his eyes were filled with hatred and disgust as a miniature form of the Dark Mark appeared between them. “Deletrius.” He was on the defensive now; Draco was only doing charms that required very specific banishments; a mere Protego would no longer do, and would no longer afford him an extra turn.

“Cruci –”

“Protego!” Harry glared at Draco. “You idiot,” he tacked on quietly, his focus narrowing suddenly. He could no longer hear anything outside of his own breathing, could no longer see anything but Draco Malfoy. “Furnunculus!”

“Protego! Try Imperius, Potter, why don’t you?”

“Imperius, then!” Harry shot back obligingly.

A deadly silence filled the air around him as Harry realized that the curse had worked. He was in Draco, now, or a tiny bit of him was. It was a mess in there, Harry realized, but it wasn’t all that difficult to sort through after the dizzying images and sounds of Occlumency. Harry wanted nothing more than for Draco to shut up for once, and so that was what he demanded: Shut. Up!

And Draco did.

That was when Harry realized that the deadly quiet was not just in himself, but all around him. He slowly turned to Professor Lupin.

Lupin was looking at him with mingled shock and horror. “Harry,” he whispered hoarsely, and to avoid hearing that word in that voice from that man, Harry would have endured Crucio from Draco a thousand times. The Defense Professor turned to face Malfoy. “Sweet Merlin, he’s still under. Let him go, Harry!”

“L-let him go?” Harry stammered, Draco’s thoughts still swimming around, quite within reaching distance of his. The urge to dive into them was nearly overwhelming. “How?”

Lupin seemed to deflate slightly. “At least I can be certain this is your first time, Mister Potter.”

Harry felt smaller than he ever had at the Dursleys. The way Lupin said ‘Mister Potter’...

“Here. Hold your wand – so. Releaseo.”

Harry held his wand hand parallel to his waist, and tried to concentrate on Draco’s thoughts slipping free of him and away. “Releaseo!”

“Well, aren’t you going... to...?” Draco trailed off, catching sight of Professor Lupin standing behind Harry.

“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. Up to Dumbledore.”

“Professor Lupin–” Harry began desperately.

“Now, Mister Potter.”

Harry was tromping up the stairs, Draco Malfoy in his wake. The blonde boy kept silent until they were about halfway up.“Confundus?” he finally offered, in an odd voice Harry almost didn’t recognize.

“No,” he replied shortly.

Draco frowned in thought, still continuing to walk up the stairs. “The expression on that rangy mutt’s face...” He stared at Harry, his eyes narrowing. “An Unforgivable...”

Harry didn’t reply; he rather thought the expression on Professor Lupin’s face had been self-explanatory.

Draco burst into wild, half-hysterical laughter. “Did you Obliviate me as well? ‘I cannot have that foul Slytherin tarnishing my good name’... but what about everyone else out there? Did you cast a giant Obliviate out over the entire Quidditch pitch? You might well have done it with that wand, I hear it’s the twin of the Dark Lord’s–”

“I didn’t cast Obliviate,” Harry broke in. “It was Imperius – sometimes people don’t remember, afterward.”

There was a small, shocked silence. “What did I do?” Draco said. “Potter – what did you make me do?”

“Lemon drop,” Harry said. When the doorway to Dumbledore’s office didn’t open, he tried again. “Every-Flavour Beans?”

The staircase began flowing up, carrying Harry and Draco up to the front door. When Harry knocked, the door opened, admitting them into the Headmaster’s Office.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like a man about to dive under water – and slipped through the door to seat himself before Albus Dumbledore.