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Author: Gridley Story: Harry Potter and the Grand Alliance Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 3 Words: 33,314
Harry was apprehensive as he walked into his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. His first and fourth year teachers had been working for Voldemort. His second year teacher had been a fraud. His third year teacher had turned out to be one of his father's best friends from school, and a werewolf. Last year their teacher had tried to take over the school and had been responsible for sending a pair of Dementors after him. So it was almost disturbing that Professor Dorfomt seemed normal. He didn't have any unusual clothing. He was dressed in sensible work robes, much like the other teachers. He didn't have a turban or a magical eye. He hadn't written half a dozen books and made them texts for the class. His voice wasn't even annoying. All this only left Harry convinced that Professor Dorfomt was better than the others had been at hiding what was odd about him, not that he was actually a normal wizard. "Good afternoon. You are the Gryffindor sixth years, correct? Good. Welcome to Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts." Dorfomt called the roll and, to Harry's surprise, paid no special attention to his name. "I'm sure I will get to know all of you better as the year goes on, but I will begin by telling you a little about myself. As Professor Dumbledore mentioned, I am from the United States of America. I hold a Doctorate in Magical Combat from the Salem Institute, where I've spent the last five years teaching the subject. Before that I spent twelve years working for the US Council of Magic in the Investigation and Enforcement Department. You will find that I have a rather ‘hands on' approach to teaching." Most of the class looked relieved – another theory class would have been the last straw. "Well then, let's get started. This is a class in how to defend yourself. Who thinks they know the most important thing about defending yourself?" Silence. After a moment, Hermione, to no one's surprise, raised her hand. "Miss Granger?" Dorfomt had been looking in her direction; someone must have told him about Hermione. "Knowing your opponent's weaknesses?" "Certainly, that is important. Knowledge is, after all, power. I was thinking of something different, however." Ron muttered "Constant vigilance." Harry thought he had been the only one to hear him, but Professor Dorfomt had as well. "Close, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps I can illustrate the point." With a single, swift motion, Dorfomt drew his wand and leveled it at Dean, in the first row. Everyone froze, and Dean leaned back in his seat. "Is Mr. Thomas in danger now?" Dorfomt asked. No one answered. No one was prepared for his next action either. He casually tossed his wand into the back of the room. "Do you feel safer now, Mr. Thomas?" "Err… yes?" Dean seemed to think it was a trick question, but wasn't certain where the trick was. "Indeed? Why is that?" "Well… ah, you don't have your wand." "Don't I?" Suddenly, Dorfomt was holding a wand on Dean again. Harry, along with several others, turned sharply and saw that the wand he had thrown away was still in the back of the room. Half the class was staring at Dorfomt in terror. Terror changed to bewilderment as he calmly raised his wand, pointed it at his mouth, and took a bite out of it. He chewed for a moment, then swallowed. "Licorice – a weakness of mine. You will, in your lives, encounter dangerous and unpredictable situations. Many of those situations will arise from Dark Creatures or Wizards. To survive, you will have to become dangerous and unpredictable yourself. There are no dangerous weapons. There are only dangerous men." "But… if you don't have a wand, how can you defend yourself?" Neville spoke up, sounding hesitant. Dorfomt took another bite of licorice, chewed, and swallowed. "Do you have your wand, Mr. Longbottom?" "Err… yes." Neville drew it out. "You saw me throw mine to the far side of the room. Would you care to wager, say, 20 points for Gryffindor that you can knock me to the ground before I do the same to you?" "No!" Neville looked terrified. He had come a long way in the DA sessions last year, but Dorfomt was unnerving. Dorfomt smiled. "A wise choice, and a point to Gryffindor. Don't enter a fight that you don't think you can win if it can be safely avoided." He sighed, and put down the licorice wand. "More often, of course, there are consequences to avoiding a fight. Therefore, it is my job to make you as dangerous in a fight as you can be, so that when you do have to fight, you have the best possible chance of winning. None of you should be surprised to hear that." He glanced around the class. Most of them, feeling they were on firmer ground here, nodded. "But it is also my job to teach you when to fight, when to use deadly force, and when to cut your losses. Your textbooks, like your wands, will be useful tools for the first part. But for the second part, the decisions, your only weapon is always with you. It is merely my job to hone it. What is that weapon?" Silence again. "Come now! You are neither children, nor fools. If you hadn't passed your O.W.L. in this subject you wouldn't even be here. Mr. Longbottom has already used the weapon I speak of in this class, as has Miss Granger." Ron raised a hand, and Dorfomt nodded to him. "Your brain?" "Very good Mr. Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor. As I understand, you are an excellent chess player, which brings us smoothly to our first exercise. Chess, known in many parts of the world as ‘the battle game' serves as a useful tool to study the choices involved…." Harry tried to figure out how they'd gotten from fake wands to chess, and gave up for the moment. He tried to concentrate on the lecture. It was going to be an interesting year. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Harry soared high above the Quidditch pitch, looking for the Snitch. Life was so much simpler up here – so much cleaner. He didn't have to worry about Death Eaters or strange Defense Professors. All he had to do was find the Snitch and catch it before the other Seeker did. Well, that and avoid getting pummeled to bits by Bludgers. Focusing on the Snitch was hard. It was hard to forget that one of their Chasers had never played for Gryffindor before, that Ron had played two horrible matches as Keeper and only one good one. It was far too easy to remember that while Ginny had played before, this was her first time as a Chaser, and that their Beaters had been known to injure themselves with their own bats. While several of the players were good as individuals, the team lacked any sense of coordination. All in all, it was looking as if it would take a miracle to win the Quidditch cup this year. Ron had quickly become aware of this. Gryffindor's new Captain lacked neither awareness of what his team was doing nor an excellent understanding of Quidditch strategy. Harry recognized this, just as he recognized himself as a specialist without those qualities. What Ron lacked, in Harry's opinion, was common sense. He had put the team on a practice schedule that reminded Harry strongly of Oliver Wood at his most fanatical. Harry reflected on Angelina's time as Captain last year and wondered if there was some sinister curse on the Gryffindor Captain's position. Harry dodged a Bludger that neither Beater had seen and tried not to wince as Ginny threw the Quaffle to Dennis Creevey, who dropped it. They had a long way to go before their first game. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'm surprised Dennis is so good on a broom," Harry commented to Ginny as they walked back towards the castle. They had happened to come out of the changing rooms at the same time, and had fallen into step without need for comment. It just seemed natural. "Some people are naturals. It isn't like it took you a long time to make the house team," Ginny answered with a grin. "Good point," Harry acknowledged with a grin of his own. After all, he had made the house team within an hour of his first time on a broom. Dennis had started flying two years ago. "I just wish he were as good at catching the Quaffle as he is at flying," Ginny sighed. Harry's grin became a grimace. "Good point." "So, what do you think of Professor Dorfomt?" Ginny asked. "He's… weird." Ginny turned her head towards him and raised an eyebrow. "Our other teachers are normal, ordinary people?" "He's… different. He's not like the others. I don't know what it is." "You mean how the others just teach us magic and he's teaching us to think about it?" Harry stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face Ginny. "Ginny, I think that's exactly it. Everyone else… ‘if you see a Dementor, cast a Patronus Charm.' I'll bet he'd have half a dozen plans for dealing with a Dementor. Apparate away, cast some other charm on himself, something for whatever situation he was in." He was smiling again now. "You're brilliant, Ginny." For a moment, his eyes met hers. She was smiling back, her brown eyes lit up with pleasure at the compliment. He felt oddly pleased at how happy she looked. He had never noticed her eyes before, how large they seemed to be…. "Harry, wait up!" Ron's voice shattered the moment. Harry turned reflexively back toward the Quidditch stands to see Ron charging toward him. Ginny muttered something that sounded like "Great timing, Ron." She started to say something, then closed her mouth and sighed, "I'll see you back at the castle, Harry." She sounded disappointed. "Err… right. See you." Harry was confused. Was something wrong? He watched her walk off, feeling that he'd missed something, until Ron caught up to him. "Alright, Harry?" Ron sounded nervous. "Fine. Is something wrong?" "What? No. Nothing's wrong at all. Well, practice could have gone better." Ron finished with a scowl, but almost before Harry could notice it, he expression changed into a forced-looking grin. "I've been meaning to ask you, mate, ah…" he trailed off. Harry was becoming very confused. "What?" "Well, you see, how d'you, um, how do you feel about Hermione?" Harry thought that "very confused" didn't begin to describe how he felt. "Hermione?" "Right." "Well, she's one of my best friends…" Harry started uncertainly, but Ron cut him off. "That's not what I mean. I mean, how do you feel about her?" Harry stared at Ron. This didn't make any sense. Was Ron asking if he was interested in Hermione? In dating Hermione? "Ron," Harry started slowly, "I'm not interested in her as a girlfriend…." "I know that!" Ron sounded exasperated. "What I mean is, bloody hell, I mean, how do you know you're not?" A possibility occurred to Harry. Could it be that Ron didn't know? That he thought he was just feeling friendship? When it was plain to everyone – well, everyone who'd seen them after the Yule Ball in fourth year, anyway – that they felt a great deal more than that? Of course, thinking about Ron and the Yule Ball, Ron could be that thick. The problem was, Harry had no idea how to explain that to him. "Err, well, when you like someone, you get upset when you think they like someone else. Or someone else likes them," Harry said slowly. Actually, that was pretty good. Memories of fights over ‘Vicky' ran through his head. "But, couldn't it be just that they're not good enough for her? Say, Ginny, for example. I'd be upset if she was dating someone who wasn't good enough, and I don't like her." "But she's your sister, mate. Hermione's not your sister." This seemed obvious to Harry, but then a lot of things seemed obvious to Harry that Ron seemed to be missing completely. Ron slumped. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. There's no way Miss Perfect Prefect would be interested in me." Ron turned away, and thus missed seeing Harry's jaw drop. Ron trudged off to the castle, and Harry stood and stared after him, completely at a loss for words. Author's Note: Thanks as always are due to my beta, Delylah (who has her own story on this site which is very good!). The next chapter has been written, but as yet has no title.
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