Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 40
- 41
Chapter 41 : Something You Need

Ginny wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench of the potions classroom. The air burned and tickled her nostrils like a mixture of smoke and firewhisky fumes. Most of her classmates had taken their seats and were eagerly fiddling with the reagents and glassware arranged at each table. Luna, Colin, and a few other eager students had filled the first three rows of tables, while Romilda, Dean, and the less academically inclined had congregated to the back. Ginny sat down at an empty table in the second-to-last row, opened her book, and pretended to be engrossed in a recipe for Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction.
“—an absolutely rubbish summer,” Romilda was saying. “Mum and dad were completely paranoid, as if Death Eaters were going to jump out from around every bloody corner. I barely got to do anything fun.”
“I thought not being chased by Death Eaters was fun,” Dean commented dryly.
Romilda muttered something in response that Ginny didn’t hear. Movement caught her eye as a boy sat down beside her and began twirling a glass stirring rod between his fingers. She glanced at him out of the corner or her eye, not wanting to look up and get dragged into a conversation. What did you do this summer? she imagined someone asking. Oh, nothing much. Just stood by as Harry dumped me for Draco Malfoy, watched the two of them make eyes at each other in my own house, and then rescued Draco’s mother from a rampaging madman who I let get away. What about you? Read any good books? She scowled down at the book, wishing the boy would take a hint and go away.
He must be new, she thought, glancing again at the boy. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, and deeply set brown eyes beneath eyebrows that were just a bit too bushy, as if a pair of fat caterpillars had crawled onto his face. Dark brown hair hung in unruly ringlets around his ears and forehead, proving him either too clumsy to use a comb or too stupid to realize that girls wouldn’t be lining up to run their fingers through his curls. He tugged nervously on his Slytherin tie with his left hand while still twirling the stirring rod with his right. She could feel his eyes on her and could see his too-friendly smile on the edge of her field of vision.
“Been attacked by thoughts?” he asked.
She sat up and turned to face him, flushing and shaking her head. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re reading about Dr. Ubbly’s.” The boy pointed to her book. “It’s a tricky one to make, but handy for healing scars from thoughts.”
“I don’t have any scars,” she said flatly. “I’m fine.”
“Good, good,” he murmured. The stirring rod sparkled as it rolled over his index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and back again in what must be an obnoxious nervous tick. “Dangerous things, thoughts. Worse in their own way than moonseed poison.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Ginny lied. Thoughts of Harry snogging Draco, memories of a leering man with yellow teeth, Ron crushed beneath a couch, friends lost in battle. Her mind was littered with shrapnel.
“Exploding potion, now there’s one worth the trouble!” the boy mused. “Why bother with the hassle of a euphoria elixir when you can cheer yourself up with a few good bangs, eh?”
Ginny fought back a smile, imagining Draco’s skull shattering. It was Phillipe who deserved it more, but somehow using it on Draco would be more satisfying. The corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily.
“Ah, a girl after my own heart!” the boy nodded smugly. “What’s your favorite potion, then?   Garroting gas? Malevolent mixture? Baneberry potion?”
“I’m beginning to wish I had some jawbind potion,” she muttered. The boy’s cheerfulness was wearing on her nerves.
“I see.” His eyebrows drew together, which made it look as if the two caterpillars were about to wrestle.
“Don’t bother with Weasley,” Romilda called from the back row. “She’s been in a funk all day. You can sit back here with us.”
Ginny looked over her shoulder to see Romilda simpering and scooting her chair away from Dean to make way for the new boy.
“You really can,” Ginny agreed, gesturing to the back table.
The boy grinned, making dimples on both sides of his mouth. “I’m flattered by the offer, but class is about to start.”
“The old geezer isn’t even here yet!” Romilda protested. “At least tell us your name.”
“My name? Ah, yes, I suppose for the next seven minutes you can call me ‘A.J.’ ‘A.J.’ will do nicely.”
“What happens in seven minutes?” Ginny asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
The boy leaned toward her and smiled so broadly that she found herself smiling, too. From up close, his eyebrows weren’t too bushy after all, she decided. In fact, they were just the right size for his eyes, which were a bit too large for his face and gave him a puppy-like quality. “After seven minutes, you’d better call me ‘Professor Jigger’.” With that, he rose from his seat and strode to the front of the room. “If I may have your attention?” he called and rapped once on the chalkboard hard enough to silence most of the chatter that had pervaded the room.
“Professor?” Ginny repeated under her breath.
“You’re a tad young to be a professor!” Jimmy Peakes called. “Better sit down before the old man catches you in his spot.”
“Your attention!” A.J. repeated in a deeper voice. “I will have your attention now and whenever I am speaking, or you will find yourselves scrubbing cauldrons with a toothbrush. In my day, students showed respect for their betters!”
Students glanced at one another, frowning, shrugging, and finally nodding as comprehension dawned. Ginny met A.J.’s eyes, which had receded further into his head and were now crowned with silver-speckled caterpillars. She shook her head in disapproval. Typical deceitful man. As if I’d wanted to make friends with him anyway.
“That’s better!” The professor flashed another dimple-generating grin as he surveyed the silent class. “What you see before you—“ here he squared his shoulders and gestured to his own body “—is no glamour or illusion, nor am I a metamorphmagus! This--” He raised a fist in a body-builder’s pose that would have been more impressive if his hands weren’t beginning to show liver spots. “—this is reality transformed! Youth, in all its glory, recaptured through the art of potions!” The dimples in his smile had become deep, long creases, and though he still reminded Ginny of a puppy, he resembled one of the ugly, heavy-jowled breeds. His eyebrows had burgeoned into wispy white feathers, and his hair had retreated from the top of his head as if running away from his face, leaving behind a few stragglers on each side that kept company with the whiskers that now sprouted out of his ears.
The sound of stifled laughter spread through the class. Students turned red with repressed giggles, some stuffing their fists in their mouths to avoid a full-fledged chortle.
Professor Jigger slumped and waved a hand in front of his own face, scowling. “Blasted thing wore off early, did it? Well, never mind then. Page thirty-seven of your texts, all of you! The instructions for draught of peace are in plain English—let’s see how many of you can follow them. Deviate from the procedure, and you might be missing a finger by the end of class. Follow directions, and you’ll have something nice to take home.” He met Ginny’s eyes when he said that, and she looked down at her book, her face heating.
I don’t need draught of peace. And I don’t need a professor feeling sorry for me.
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We don't need no education

We don't need no thought control…

The man strode down the hallway, humming the words to the tune blasting through the small speakers and into his ears. His fingers snapped to the beat of the song before pretending to hammer out the beat on a set of invisible drums.
We don't need no education

We don't need no thought control

No dark sarcasm in the classroom

Teachers leave them kids alone
All in all it’s just another brick in the wall. All in all you’re another brick in the wall

A slender finger touched the button on the silver case that clipped onto the side of the denim fabric, cutting the music short before the finale of the song. Pulling the headset off and letting it rest around his neck, the man stopped at the door and listened to the chatter coming from the other side. He smiled as he laid a hand on the doorknob and waited for the perfect opportunity to make his entrance.
---------------------------------------------------------------
“Wonder how long this one will last,” Ron muttered, tapping his fingers on the desk.
“Hm?” Harry turned to face him, pulling his eyes away from Draco, Blaise, and Pansy, who occupied one of the tables in the back of the room. Draco’s mouth moved, but from this distance, Harry couldn’t make out the words. Blaise and Pansy both laughed, but Draco continued to scowl.
“You know, it’s Defense Against the Dark Arts! This new bloke, Professor Valarian, or Venetian, or whatever he’s called, how long will he last, and what’s going to happen to him?”
“You’re being morbid.” Hermione slapped Ron on the arm. “Whoever Professor Vulpin is, he or she will be fine. I think when Voldemort died, he took the curse with him.” She rested her chin on her left fist, facing the slate board with an expression of intense anticipation. Her right hand fidgeted with the cover of one of her books, opening and closing it.
“Maybe he’ll die of boredom, then.” Ron quipped. “One thing’s for sure. He definitely doesn’t know what time class starts. He’s ten minutes late!”
Harry looked down at his stack of books, seeking a distraction from the conversation, which had started a parade of faces in his mind. Quirrel, Lockhart, Lupin, Moody, Umbridge, Snape, and Carrow- the best and the worst--mostly the worst--of people had stood in front of that slate board. Trying to banish the faces from his mind, he focused on the bold, bright lettering on the spines of the books. A Friendly Introduction to Curses sounded dubious, although no more so than Occlumency Done Right and Legilimency for Dummies. The Schaum’s Guide to Nonverbal Spells had been on the “optional reading” list, so Harry hadn’t bought it, though of course Hermione had, and her copy was already sprouting several bookmarks.
The squeal of the door opening rang from the back of the room, startling the students to silence.
Harry craned his neck to see a man striding down the center of the room. He wore a wizard’s robe that opened in the front, exposing the solid crimson shirt underneath. Clipped at the neck of the shirt was a hideous red and blue tie with a strange looking bird that carried a brown oblong-shaped ball under one wing. The shirt was tucked into a pair of faded jeans, the cuffs of which brushed the tops of his white lace-up shoes. As the man passed the table in the back room, Draco growled, “You!” which caused the man to roll his eyes at Draco and flash a grin at Harry.
“The word ‘you” is a personal pronoun, Mr. Malfoy. It is not my name.” The man winked at Draco before continuing on, humming the lyrics to the tune that had played on the headphone, even spouting out one of the lines, “All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.”
When the man had reached the front of the room, he snatched a piece of chalk from the tray beneath the slate board and wrote in quick sweeping strokes before moving away to display what he had written. The name “Janus Vulpin” stood out sharply against the black slate. Harry stared at the letters as if they were coiled, poisonous snakes. His face heated as he remembered a steamed-up bathroom and a towel that had fallen to the floor. After Draco and possibly Phillipe Moreaux, Janus was the last person Harry wanted to see.
“Always wanted to do that,” Janus muttered, jerking his thumb at the name. “Professor Janus Vulpin, at your service.” He made a slight bow to the class, as the headphones fell forward and covered his tie. “Oops,” he said, unclipping the silver case from the waist of his faded denim trousers, pulling the headset from around his neck, and placing the device upon his desk.
Turning back to face his students, Janus grinned broadly at the bewilderment on most of the students’ faces. “A portable CD player. Wonderful gift from Professor Weasley. He has tinkered with it so that it works inside of Hogwarts, with the headmistress’ approval. Otherwise, I’d be without my music, and you wouldn’t like me without my music.
“Down to business,” he said gripping the clip-on tie and tossing it onto his desk. “Ah, wait for it,” Janus said, pointing his index finger toward the tie. “That’s not an ordinary tie.” Several seconds later a puff of smoke erupted from the tie, causing it to float into the air and transform into a miniature red lion with a blue mane. The small lion roared, as it shook its mane from side to side before taking up a pace along the edge of the wooden desk. “Cats, you gotta love them.” He eyed Draco at the back of the room, making the Slytherin squirm in his chair.
“Now, you all can call me ‘professor’ or ‘Professor Vulpin’ to my face and whatever you want behind my back, once you master Occlumency. In the meantime, what you need to know about me is this… I. Know. Everything. Remember that, and we’ll get along just fine.” He patted the front pockets of his robe, as if searching for something important. “Here we are,” he smiled, pulling out a series of small index cards from the pocket. “Let’s see,” he muttered, reading over the cards. “Our learning objective for this class is…I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to…brew glory? Put a stopper to death?” He scratched the back of his head, while staring at the cards in puzzlement. “Ah, I remember now. These are my old Potions note cards. Well, hell, I don’t need these old things.” He tossed the cards in the air and watched as the slips of paper quickly shredded into tiny pieces.   He chuckled to himself, but the joke was lost on the rest of the class.
“Boy, tough crowd!” He cleared his throat and turned to write on the slate board once again. “Our objective will be the learning of the practical usage of advanced defensive spells and their counterparts,” he wrote on the board, causing small white flakes of chalk to land on his black robe. “Also, to practice and to master all of the uses of Legilimency and Occlumency, and to perfect our usage of complicated non-verbal spells, in practical, defensive settings.” A loud crack, shot through the room and Professor Vulpin looked at the broken piece of chalk that his fingers clutched. “Huh? Guess they don’t make them like they used to.”
He turned to face the class. “Are you all going to sit there with your mouths hanging open, or are you going to copy this stuff down? A scramble of parchment and quills followed as each student hurriedly wrote down what was written on the board.
“Now, I’ve had a brief history lesson on your former professors, and I have to say that you all have had quite a lineup. However, for me, I prefer a hands-on style of teaching, rather than reading and droning on and on about what some old out of date textbook says. I prefer a practical approach.” Janus walked to the desk, pulled out the chair, turned it around, and placed it in front of the class. He straddled it, resting his forearms on the back of the chair. “I prefer to hear from my students. I want to know your minds and discuss our work. ” He got up from the chair, and walked toward the middle of the room, feeling all of the eyes of the class upon him. “So, an open discussion it will be. I won’t bore you with an endless lecture. If you have something to say, simply raise your hand. I want us all to participate, because that’s how you learn; by talking things over and hearing about different opinions.” He smiled and spread his arms outward. “I want you all to be my padawans.”
A soft murmur spread through the class as each student repeated the word. Several students made circling motions with their fingers near their temples. Others stared dumbstruck at the new professor.
“Oh come on, guys!” Janus pleaded, letting his arms fall to his side. “You really don’t know what that means?” Most of the students shook their heads, while some did not do anything, except to continue to whisper the word on their lips. “Alright, we’ll make this fun then.” The professor rubbed his hands together vigorously. He walked back to the front of the classroom, and placed a foot on the edge of the seat of his chair. “For thirty house points, who can guess the closest to what a ‘padawan’ is?”
Slowly, several hands raised into the air with nervous expressions etched on the faces of those individual students. A small twinkle danced in Janus’ eyes as he looked around the classroom. “Alright, it’s a start. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” He walked to his left, acknowledging the lone hand that was raised. “Yes?
The young man lowered his hand. “The name’s Seamus Finnigan, sir.”
Professor Vulpin waved his hand at the young student. “Please, you don’t have to call me sir.”
“Yes, sir,” Seamus replied.
Professor Vulpin rolled his eyes and let out an “oh” before regaining himself and motioning for Seamus to continue with his answer. “Is it a type of dragon, sir?”
“Ugh! Some habits are so hard to break,” Janus said, holding his hand against his forehead and shaking his head. He deeply exhaled, chuckled a bit and looked up at the Gryffindor. “No, Seamus. It’s not a dragon.” He gazed around the classroom, looking for the next student to be called upon. His eyes came to rest on Draco, even though the Syltherin hadn’t raised his hand. “Mr. Malfoy. Would you like to participate? Or would you rather sit there sulking?”
Draco’s cheeks flushed, and his upper lip quivered with silent anger. “Is it another name for a stupid, mangy, bloody American lunatic that has a split personality disorder?” Draco smirked, and Janus’ mouth hung open, momentarily silenced by the answer.
Quickly, he recovered, closing his mouth and forcing a short bark like laugh from his mouth. “Most definitely not. By the way, Mr. Malfoy, that was a most ingenious answer,” Janus replied, as Draco ignored the pats on his shoulder from his fellow Slytherin classmates. “Perhaps you’d like to discuss your theories with me tomorrow night at 7pm. Let’s make it a date, shall we?”
“Professor?” Hermione asked, raising her hand and shaking it in the air. “Is it …someone who is an apprentice?” She asked, not waiting for her name to be called.
Janus slowly turned, beaming at the young woman. “That it is. Absolutely correct. How did you know?”
Hermione blushed. “Well, my father has these old movies and comics that I’ve seen before. In them a young boy receives training from his mentor. This person refers to the young boy as a padawan.”
“Remarkable! Yes, I consider all of you my apprentices, and it is my job to train you into full-fledged knights. So, thirty house points to…”
“Gryffindor,” Hermione said, beaming with excitement.
Harry ignored Hermione’s squeal of delight. An unwelcome jolt had gone through him when he and Janus briefly locked eyes. Suddenly, Harry felt as if he wanted to be anywhere but here in this room. He glanced at Draco again. The Slytherin had turned red and folded his arms across his chest, ignoring Pansy, who was trying to whisper something in his ear.
“Now Legilimency is the…” Vulpin started.
Motion in the periphery of Harry’s vision caught his eye, and he turned to see Hermione vigorously waving her hand in the air. She cleared her throat loudly before giving up and calling, “Professor Vulpin!”
“Yes, Miss Granger?” The professor called, sounding tired already.
“Sir, Legilimency has never been taught at Hogwarts. On page seven of--“she winced as she said the title “--Legilimency for Dummies, it even says that, and I quote, ‘Even experts disagree on whether Legilimency is a dark art. Although not widely considered Unforgiveable, the incantation Legilimens is usually legally restricted and violates the code of conduct of most major organizations. To put it simply, it’s not a nice thing to do.”
“Bravo, Miss Granger!” Janus said, clapping with applause. “A perfect textbook answer if I’ve ever heard one.” He paced in front of the board, his chin in his fist in an exaggerated thoughtful pose. “So, it’s not a nice thing to do. Well then, I suppose that in a perfect world we don’t have to worry about anyone doing it.” Abruptly, he scraped his fingernails across the slate board, eliciting an ear-piercing shriek that had all of the students covering their ears and wincing. “Now, that wasn’t a nice thing to do either, was it?”
“Sir, I didn’t mean…” Hermione said, recovering from the assault upon her hearing.
“We don’t live in a perfect world. Far from one, actually!” He walked over to his desk and tossed the piece of chalk down with vigor. The lighting in the room dimmed, as if an eclipse were happening outside. Janus looked down at the broken piece of chalk and frowned as if collecting his thoughts. Bringing his eyes back from his desk, he stared directly at Hermione. “Tell me, Hermione. What is your opinion of the world that we live in? Is it a nice and kind world, to you?”
“It’s not nice, sir. But we should be. If we start doing bad things just because there are bad people…” she trailed off.
“It’s not a matter of good and bad people. There’s no line between the dark side and the light. It’s all shades of grey!” He grabbed the piece of chalk and hurried over to the board. “Defense,” he said, scribbling the word on the board. “That’s what this is about. Your best chance to survive is your very own defense, and that starts right here in this room.”
Janus ran his fingers through his hair, took off his black wizard’s robe, and tossed it over to his desk. “Alright,” he began in a calmer voice. “Now, according to you, Miss Granger, we shouldn’t use Legilimency, because it’s bad. Even though there may be a Death Eater reject loose from Nurmengard running around out there. Who knows? There may be a vile wizard or witch lurking somewhere, just waiting for you. Bad guys don’t always wear black capes.” He fingered the dark fabric of his own robe. “Are you telling me that it’s better to not use Legilimency against any of these people? What if they have their wand pointed at you, huh? Expelliarmus and other jinxes and charms won’t always be there to save the day. Remember, it’s called Defense Against the Dark Arts for a reason. And in a situation like this, you’re best offense is your defense. Legilimens can be the difference between life and Avada Kedavra. Wouldn’t you like to know what your opponent is going to do, so that you will know how to counteract it? It’s chess at its finest, but with one prestige. You can have the advantage.”
All of the Slytherins and at least half of the other students were nodding in agreement with Janus. Some of them chuckled at Hermione for finally being put in her place.
“So you’re argument is that the end justifies the means?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide. “Even if it is morally wrong?
“Legilimens!” Janus said the incantation, apparently ignoring Hermione’s question. After a moment’s pause, he smiled, looking first toward the back of the class. “I see some of you have broken things--potions glassware, hearts, mirrors…” He paced across the room and waved a hand in a gesture that included the whole class. “Someone’s been cheating in their Potions class, buying the pre-brewed stuff at Mulpepper’s and passing it off as his…or her…own work.” The students all gave each other suspicious looks, and some of them laughed nervously. “Course, some of you have been doing a different kind of cheating.” Janus winked at no one in particular. The room fell silent, with some pupils scowling and others flushing. “And the things…the things you kids do in the Room of Requirement these days, its…” His face contorted in a melodramatic parody of disgust. “Aw, that’s just wrong! I mean where’d you even learn--No! I don’t want to know.” He shuddered like a dog shaking off water.
Janus moved across the room and put his palms on the table in front of Hermione. “My argument, Miss Granger, is that if I can walk inside that pretty little head of yours and stomp around, so can other people. However, some people will not exactly wipe their feet before they come in. When we outlaw teaching Legilimency, only outlaws will be Legilimens.
“So, you make your choice.” Janus took a step back and spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “You want to be a conscientious objector, you go right ahead. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. If you want to learn how to protect yourself from the guys who don’t care much about the nice thing to do, you stay here. Which is it, Hermione?”
Hermione tensed, standing up partway before sitting down again. “Good!” Janus applauded softly. “Very good. Now we can move forward to the practical part of Legilimency, before I turn you all loose with the reading material, since we’ve had our discussion about the subject. And except for Ms. Granger here, I know that none of you have read the material yet.   I need a volunteer, please!”
He scanned the room for raised hands, but most of the students were sitting on their hands or had them hidden under their armpits. “Oh come now, this is the best part of D.A.D.A.”
A loud snort came from Draco. “Do you have any idea of what class was like with Carrow? Only an idiot would volunteer for a Dark Arts demonstration.”
Janus grinned as he stood by his desk, his fingers lightly stroking his wand. “Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Malfoy. Please step this way.” Draco ignored the man, looking away from him and staring at the blank wall.    Janus’ next words came out in a strange, twangy parody of an American accent.   “What we’ve got here is…failure to communicate. Some people you just can’t reach, which is what we have right here. Which is the way he wants it…well, he’ll get it.”
“No, and you can’t make me,” Draco huffed, continuing to stare at the wall.
Janus cleared his throat and returned to his normal voice. “As your professor I can, by the power vested in me by the headmistress, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and by the Minister of Magic, himself,” Janus replied. “You will step forward and participate, or else you will have so many detentions that you will never see the grass of a Quidditch pitch this year.”
Janus waited as Draco fumed in his seat. Blaise whispered something in his ear, and Pansy gave him a shove in Janus’ direction.
“If you do anything to me, I’ll be sure you’re sacked and sent back to that hole in America that you came from,” Draco growled, standing beside his chair and pointing a finger at Janus.
Janus’ smile broadened as Draco walked forward, brandishing his wand as he strode past his professor. “Fair enough for me, Draco.” He picked his wand up from the desk and turned to face the Slytherin. “Now, I want you to attack me.”
Janus watched as a cruel smile crept on Draco’s face. “Come on, tough guy. Hit me with your best shot.” Janus tapped his chest as he sang the last few words.
He saw the anticipation in Draco’s eyes as the Slytherin’s wand circled in the air above his head. Draco’s lip curled into an angry snarl.   “Con--“   Calmly, Janus flicked his wand and streams of silver rope flew from the tip, wrapping around the Slytherin’s arms and mouth, causing his wand to fall harmlessly to the floor.
“Legilimens, ladies and gentlemen,” Janus said, walking toward Draco and extending his hand in recognition as if he were a ring leader promoting a death-defying circus act. “And now you have a practical example of Legilimens in a defensive exhibition.” He smiled and winked at Draco, as he circled the struggling Slytherin, picking up the fallen wand. “Oh, please don’t thank me, Mr. Malfoy; it was my honor to present that to you. Now tell me, and tell your fellow classmates as well, just what curse you were going to cast at me.” With a casual flick of his own wand, Janus watched as the silver rope disappeared from around Draco. .
“Confringo!” he spat.
“Draco!” Hermione shouted, rising from her chair. “You can’t use a blasting spell on a professor!”
“Stuff it, Granger!” Draco hissed, putting his wand back into his robes. “We both know that he’s not a professor. “
“Oi! You can’t speak to Hermione like that!” Ron shouted, rising from his desk.
“And what are you going to do Weasel-bum? Go and run to your poor mommy for comfort?” Draco said, a faint trace of a smirk returning to his face.
Janus leaned forward on his desk, his arms rigid and tense. As he looked out at the class, his eyes flashed black. His cheek muscles twitched, and Harry remembered him throwing Draco into the bedroom.
“That’s enough, Draco!” Harry shouted. “Ron, sit back down, and let’s get through the rest of this class, alright?” Before Professor Vulpin kills someone.
Janus swallowed, took a deep breath, and stood up straight. A forced smile spread across his face. “I concur, Harry. That is quite enough, for one day.” Janus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well it seems that my small exhibition has placed everyone’s nerves on edge,” he continued, walking back to the board and pocketing his wand. “So here’s what I will do. I’ll let you take the rest of the period off, with the understanding that you’ll have the assignment down by tomorrow.” He turned his back and scribbled on the board, jotting down titles and page numbers before moving aside so the students could copy.
As Harry and the other students dutifully copied the page numbers, Janus sat at his desk, took out a ledger, and began scribbling with a Muggle pen. Slowly, he slid his eyes upward from the note in the ledger, briefly glancing at Draco, before turning to the window. “One final announcement before class ends,” Janus said, not bothering to look at any of the students. “Mr. Malfoy, after reviewing my calendar, I will have to re-schedule our time together.” The writing in the room came to a sudden stop. Janus paused before he continued, listening to the slight fidgeting that some of the students made in their chairs while they awaited the remainder of his announcement. “I’m afraid that I have a much better looking date that night. Sorry old man, I’m sure you understand. Shall we say 7pm Friday night, instead?”
In a courtyard outside, a bell rang out signaling the end of the class. As the pupils packed up their books and began to leave, Janus called, “Wait! One more thing. I catch any of you doing Legilimency outside this room; there’ll be hell to pay.” He smiled as the students began to file out toward the door.
Several students, mostly Slytherins, cringed, but pansy Parkinson laughed loudly and said in a stage whisper. “What’s he going to do to us? He’s a teacher! McGonagall wouldn’t let him hurt us. The old bat hasn’t got it in her!”
“He’s too crazy to care what McGonagall thinks,” Draco said, meeting Janus’ eyes as he said it. “I’m not sure what he is, just yet, but he’s not a teacher. Come on.” He took Pansy by the arm and jerked his head toward the doorway. Blaise followed the two of them out, followed by Ron and Hermione.
Harry trailed after his friends, not wanting to be alone with Janus.

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Outside the potions classroom, Ginny held her vial to the light and admired the silver swirls inside before tucking it into her pocket. Romilda offered hers to Dean, who pushed her hand away in irritation as he scowled at the burned patches on his robe.
Romilda shrugged and put her vial in a satchel with her books. “It really wasn’t hard if you followed instructions.”
“Maybe if our professor had actually tried to teach us something instead of falling asleep at his desk, I would have been able to!” Dean snapped.
“He only fell asleep because of the fumes from the disaster in Natalie’s cauldron.” Ginny glanced back into the potions classroom and saw that Natalie herself was just now recovering and was staggering out of the classroom on the arm of Jimmy Peakes.
“You’re only defending the old geezer because he fancies you. ‘What’s your favorite potion’?” Romilda mocked in an overwrought voice that sounded nothing like A.J.
“Shut up. He only sat next to me because there was an empty seat.”
“And you liked him too, didn’t you? Before you knew he was, you know, a few hundred years old. Right?” Romilda elbowed Ginny as they started down the hallway.
“I think you’re the one who liked him.” She elbowed Romilda back, perhaps a trifle harder than was necessary.
“Ginny knows how to pick ‘em, doesn’t she?” Dean mused. “Flirting with a Slytherin who turns out to be a professor, dating Harry Potter, who turns out to be—“
“Dating you, who turns out to be a prat!” Ginny interjected. Her face had flushed, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets to hide the fact that they shook with rage.
Romilda laughed hard at Ginny’s barb and rewarded her with another friendly elbow to the ribs. They had come to an intersection, and Ginny made a sharp right.
“Hey, where are you going?” Dean called. “Class is this way!”
“I’m going to a different class!” she called over her shoulder, walking rapidly in the other direction. She would have to put up with endless teasing about taking divination once they found out, but she had had enough for today.
At the top of the divination staircase, Professor Rivail stood talking to a student, her hand on the person’s shoulder, her body obscuring Ginny’s view of the student. As Ginny made her way up the staircase, she heard the professor’s strong, melodic voice.
“—sense a greatness in you!” the professor was saying. “I do!”
“But the poe stones…” the student protested.
“Show only one of the infinite possibilities in the multiverse!” Professor Rivail waved her arm, the flowing sleeve of her purple paisley robe trailing dramatically. “There are many methods of divination because each of us has an endless array of paths before us. Why, anyone with a day’s training in moleosophy could see that you are marked with the potential to change the world. The question is whether you will take the hand of fate when it is offered.”
“What if…” The student looked down at his shoes. Ginny had ascended to a place on the stairs where she could make out his face, and she was surprised to see that it was Blaise Zabini. She stopped and leaned on the railing, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. “What if fate already offered me the chance and I threw it away?”
“Nonsense!” Professor Rivail laughed theatrically.
“It’s not nonsense, Professor! I, I ran…”
“From the Battle of Hogwarts,” Rivail finished. “I know. The spirits told me, and I think nothing less of you for it.”
“If I had chosen a side, I could have…”
“Died or ended up maimed, Mr. Zabini.”
“Or it could have been me being cheered at the feast! I could have been a hero, Professor. You said yourself there are infinite possibilities.”
“Yes, but there are subtleties, certain fixed points. There are infinitely many ways you could have been destroyed in the battle. This is why the spirits guided you toward the Room of Requirement on that day. You made a wise choice in saving yourself, one that bodes well for your future.” Rivail squeezed his shoulder and then moved her hand to his back and gave a gentle push. “We can talk another day, Mr. Zabini. I have other students eager to begin class.”
Blaise’s eyes widened and then narrowed when he saw Ginny on the staircase. “If you tell anyone I’m taking divination, you’ll pay for it!”
“I’ll tell everyone,” Ginny promised. “Send me a bill!”
She entered the classroom, Luna and Harper following on her heels. A few other students had already taken their seats in the upholstered chairs at the little tables. The room’s heavy curtains had been removed, revealing leaded glass windows that let in the afternoon sun.   The shelves had been cleared of Trelawney’s dust and clutter and were now sparsely decorated with sparkling crystals, a few freshly polished tea sets, and a collection of carved wooden boxes. The lower shelf was reserved for books, most of which had glossy, modern-looking jackets. Ginny read a few of the titles: A Haruspex’s Guide to Gut Feelings, Lifting the Cloud: Nephomancy for Beginners, and Dust in the Wind: What Abacomancy Can Do for You. All of those were by Rivail herself, and they were interspersed with a hodgepodge of other works on divination and general magic.
Ginny took a seat at one of the empty tables, set her book bag down, and picked up one of the half-moon-shaped, red-lacquered wooden objects that sat on the tablecloth in front of her. Each table had two pairs of the things. The one she held had a flat front side and a curved back side, each side carved with mysterious runes and what might be Chinese writing. The thing felt warm to the touch and seemed to twitch in her hand as if it wanted to move but wasn’t quite sure where to go.
“Poe stones!” Professor Rivail called from the front of the room, causing Ginny to jerk her head up and focus on the teacher. “The objects you see before you are poe stones, and they are the first of the many, many divination techniques you will learn this year. Can anyone tell me how they work?”
Ginny shook her head quietly and glanced around the room to see Luna raising her hand. The professor gestured to Luna who said, “My father says they have pixie larvae inside of them. But the runes prevent the pixies from hatching, which makes them angry. That’s why you can’t trust a poe stone to give you a straight answer.”
“That’s an interesting theory, Miss…” Rivail frowned for a moment as if trying to divine Luna’s name.
“Lovegood,” Luna supplied. “Luna Lovegood, Professor.”
“A lovely name for a lovely and creative girl!” Professor Rivail flashed a warm smile. “But can anyone tell me how we use poe stones? No? It’s simple, really. You must first meditate upon your question. I want you all to try, ‘Will I succeed in divination this year?’ Are you thinking of the question? Yes? Now, formulate an answer. I want you all to try, ‘I will succeed in divination this year.’ Fix the answer in your mind.”
Ginny closed her eyes, holding the poe stone in her hand and squeezing it until it hurt her palm. She had a different question and its accompanying answer in mind.
“You all appear ready,” the professor continued. “Now, toss your two poe stones into the air—not too high, not too low. Toss them so they fall on the floor, not the table, and be sure not to hit any of your classmates. Be especially sure not to hit your teacher!” She grinned and held up her hands as if shielding herself.
All around the room, little wooden arcs crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. One of Ginny’s landed curved side up, the other curved side down.
Rivail paced the room, murmuring, “Good, good! I see many confirmations. If the stones fall with both flat sides up or both flat sides down, this means that the spirits have responded in the negative, but fear not! This may only mean that you need to reformulate your answer and toss the stones again. Luna, may I suggest, ‘I will make new friends in divination class?’ Harper, please try, ‘I will gain insights about myself in divination class.’”
Ginny raised her hand. “Professor Rivail?”
“Yes?” the professor tilted her head to one side, making her large crystal earrings jiggle and throw refracted rainbows across the room.
“What happens if one falls flat-side-up and the other doesn’t?” Ginny braced herself for the answer, not wanting to hear it.
Rivail shrugged. “It means that your answer has not been disconfirmed. Toss the stones again with the same answer in your mind. Three mismatched tosses in a row, and you will have your affirmation.”
Ginny nodded. Her hands trembled as she picked up the stones and tossed them in the air again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them. The stones cupped together like a pair of hands with the thumbs and index fingers touching. One was round-side-up, unlike its partner. She muttered a curse and glanced up at Professor Rivail, but the teacher was too busy telling Luna to try “I will learn more about divination than I know today” to hear Ginny’s profanity.
Maybe Luna’s right, and they are just angry pixies. Ginny tossed the pieces once more, knowing before they landed that the result would be one flat-side-up, one round-side-up. She fingered the vial in her pocket and considered taking a swig.
The rest of the class seemed interminable. Having received her confirmation, she watched in boredom as some of her classmates learned that they would earn high marks, while others found that they would achieve personal growth. She took out the vial and twirled it in her fingers, unconsciously imitating Jigger’s flourishes with the stirring rod. The last few minutes of class dragged by as Professor Rivail read from the text, regaling them with the history and composition of poe stones without mentioning pixie larvae.
When the lecture had ended, she rose to leave, but Professor Rivail caught her arm. “Stay a moment.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“You asked the stones a different question.”
“Did the spirits tell you that?” Ginny asked, immediately admonishing herself for snapping at the teacher.
Rivail laughed and shook her head. “No! They didn’t need to! No one would be upset about an affirmation that she will succeed in divination.”
“Of course,” Ginny murmured. “I’m sorry I didn’t do the lesson right, I just… there was something more important that I needed to know.”
Rivail nodded. “You have been tested of late.”
“You could say that,” Ginny agreed. The professor offered a sympathetic smile, and Ginny continued, “I was thinking about what Blaise said about throwing away a chance.”
“And you heard what I told him. I don’t need to lecture you on the subtleties of divination, Miss…”
Perversely, Ginny refused to supply her name, but to her surprise the professor finished, “Weasley.”
The professor fingered a red orb that hung around her neck. “Miss Weasley, the tree of life has many tangled branches, but the roots of love grow deeply. There is no one chance—“
“I didn’t ask about love!” Ginny protested.
“No?” Rivail arched an eyebrow.
“No! It’s… hard to explain. I did something wrong, a lot of wrong things actually…”
“Your secret is safe with me.” The professor leaned forward. “It is! Before I accepted the job here, I warned Headmistress McGonagall that I would need absolute confidentiality if I were to help the students of Hogwarts.”
“Right.” Ginny took a deep breath. Her next words came out in a rush. “There was a man, a former Death Eater, who attacked my brother. I thought I had killed that man, but it turned out I hadn’t, and he nearly killed a friend of Harry’s, a man named Janus—“
“Janus Vulpin?” Rivail’s mouth twitched as she fought off a smile.
“I don’t know his last name! Is that really important, Professor?”
“You’ll feel better once you’ve attended Defense Against the Dark Arts.” The professor smiled cryptically. “If the poe stones told you that Janus Vulpin suffered any lasting harm—“
“That wasn’t what I asked either!” Ginny sighed in frustration. “I asked if Phillipe Moreaux, if the man I failed to kill, would kill many more people because I let him live.”
“Then I was right.” Rivail nodded to herself.
“About what?” Ginny asked before tagging on a belated, “Professor”.
“Your question was about your love of your fellow man. A more selfless love than that which concerns most students your age, Miss Weasley. I am impressed with your character.”
“But, Professor, the answer to my question was ‘yes’!”
Rivial waved a hand, as she had done with Blaise. Ginny wondered if the woman chose her robes specifically so that they would stream dramatically each time she did that. “And did you ask how many innocents would die if you had killed Moreaux? I didn’t think so. Actions have consequences that reverberate through time, Ginevra. What if one of the people Moreaux kills were to be the next Voldemort?”
“Is that what you’re saying—that we’re all better off because I didn’t finish him off that night?” Ginny asked. “If you’d let me try the poe stones again, we could find out for sure, couldn’t we?”
“My next class is about to begin.” Rivail spread her hands helplessly. “But I will ask for you if that’s what you’d like.”
Ginny nodded. “Thank you.” She felt a smile spread across her face. On impulse, she handed her vial to Professor Rivail. “It’s peace draught. Professor Jigger promised my batch is good, and you might be able to offer it to another student, someone who needs it more than I do.”
The professor nodded her thanks. “Such generosity, Miss Weasley! The roots grow deep, indeed.”
----------------------------------------
“Think Vulpin really knows about the Room of Requirement?” Ron was saying. He scratched at the back of his neck and adjusted the shoulder strap on his bag.
“I don’t know.” Hermione frowned, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “What I do know is that I don’t enjoy being threatened. That…man doesn’t know the first thing about teaching a class! You don’t scare people into learning.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “He’s a dodgy sort, isn’t he?” He fiddled with his bag again, reached into it, and pulled out Occlumency Done Right. “I think I’m going to read this tonight, anyway, just to be on the safe side. You know, in case he really can get into our heads like he says. And maybe we can go to the library and see if they have any other books on mental defenses.”
They passed a wooden bench in the hallway, and Harry nearly tripped over the extended foot of Pansy Parkinson, who sat hip-to-hip with Draco.
“Ow!” Pansy wailed, pulling her left ankle up to her right knee so that her robes fell away from her legs, exposing sheer, knee-high black stockings. She rubbed her ankle ostentatiously, glaring at Harry. “Aren’t your bloody glasses thick enough? Watch where you’re going!”
“Here, let me see.” Draco reached for Pansy’s foot and traced the ankle with his fingers before pulling out his wand and murmuring. “Episkey.” Pansy tensed briefly and then flexed and extended her foot, nodding her approval at Draco.
“It’s better now,” Draco said, running his hand over Pansy’s ankle but looking at Harry. “Almost as if Potter hadn’t run into us at all.”
“I didn’t…” Harry took a deep breath, but it did nothing to lessen the rage. “She tried to trip me! It was deliberate.”
Pansy laughed. “What, you think you’re so important that I’d risk getting in trouble or getting my ankle broken just to trip you?” Even though she was sitting, she somehow managed to look down her nose at Harry.
Harry smiled at Draco. “So she doesn’t know, then.”
Draco rose from the bench, stepping on Pansy’s toes in the process and eliciting another yelp from her. Harry stepped back into the throng of students walking to class, and Draco shadowed him, shoving people away until they stood in the center of the hall with the crowd parting on either side of them like the current of a river flowing around a boulder.
“Don’t you dare!” Draco raised his index finger and shook it in Harry’s face. “No one will believe you. They’ll all think you’re delusional as well as perverted. You’ll be the one who pays, not me, I…”
“You’ll be going to class now,” Hermione said, stepping between them, her back to Harry.
“Yeah, and we’ll be going to the library to get those books, right Harry?” Ron asked, tugging at the sleeve of his robe.
“No.” Harry shook Ron off. “Go on, both of you.” He made a shoeing motion toward Ron and Hermione. He grinned at Draco. “I’ll be going to get some private tutoring from Janus.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Professor Vulpin?” Harry called, knocking on the heavy wooden door even though the office was open.
“Harry!” Janus got up from his chair and gestured for Harry to enter. “Make yourself at home!” He pointed to an upholstered chair in one of the corners.
“Thanks.” Harry entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the room, noting the nail holes from the numerous tiny hooks where Dolores Umbridge had hung those horrible mewling plates. The only decoration Janus had brought was his picture of Old Trafford. His wizard’s robe hung on a coat rack, along with his hat and duster, and he wore faded trousers and a plain black tee shirt.
“What is it I can do for you?” Janus asked, sitting down on the front edge of his desk.
“Don’t you already know?” Harry quipped. “You are the expert in Legilimency.”
“Are you kidding?” Janus said smiling. “Minerva would have my hide, or at least cough up a hairball in my favorite shoe, if she though I read a student’s mind!” Janus shook his head.
“But in class…” Harry frowned and tilted his head to the side, puzzled. “You knew about the kids buying potions to cheat in class…”
“Because I noticed a whole shelf at Mulpepper’s devoted to potions from the standard curriculum. Heck, half that stuff isn’t even good for much, except driving students crazy trying to make it. Why would old Mulpepper be stocking it if not to aid the academically challenged?”
“Oh.” Harry found himself laughing. It was the last thing he had expected when he imagined seeing Janus again. “And the Room of Requirement? What is it you know about that?”
Janus shrugged. “I was here, remember? Just because I didn’t get to finish school doesn’t mean I didn’t hear a thing or two about what goes on in the R.O.R. I guessed human nature hadn’t changed much in the last couple decades. Judging from the looks on their faces, I’m thinkin’ I guessed right.”
“And people doing…other kinds of cheating…”
“Again, human nature. Life is conflict, and some people don’t like choosing. I don’t have to go rooting around in someone’s head to know that.” Janus paused, looking Harry in the eyes. “What I want to know is why you’re here.”
“I did the reading,” Harry said, tapping his book bag. “At least, most of it, the parts on using Legilimency to probe someone’s emotions and find out his secrets. I want to know how you do it on a strong Occlumens, someone with formal training and natural talent.”
“And this someone would be…” Janus raised an eyebrow.
“Does it matter?” Harry snapped.
“Does if you want my help.”
“It’s Draco.” Harry looked down at the floor. “If I could read his mind, if I could be sure he was telling the truth when he said we could never be together, then maybe I could…maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to see him with Pansy Parkinson.” His hands clenched on the armrests of the chair, digging into the soft upholstery until the hard wood beneath it hurt his fingertips.
“Huh.” Janus tapped his fingers on the desk. “Did you run this plan by your friends?”
“What do you think?” Harry laughed humorlessly. “You know what Hermione would say, and Ron, he wouldn’t understand.”
“Your friend isn’t exactly wrong about Legilimency being a dark art, especially when you’re using it on someone as twisted as Malfoy. You’re not going to like what you find in there. Besides, couldn’t you just, you know, move on?”
“I tried.” Harry felt his face start to heat and willed the excess blood out of his cheeks with a monumental effort.
“Fair enough.” Janus shrugged. He stood, rounded his desk, and dug in one of the drawers until he found an oblong, brown object, like a rugby ball, but with pointy ends. “Play catch with me, Harry!” He tossed the ball in a slow arc.
Instinctively, Harry reached for the ball as it flew toward him, wrapping his hands around it and noting the laces on the front and the dimpled feel of the leather. “So you’re not going to help me.” He tossed the ball back to Janus and stood.
“Didn’t say that, did I?” Janus threw the ball again. “But, we’re going to do it my way. And no one finds out about our private lesson. Got it?” He spread his hands expectantly after Harry caught the ball.
“Alright.” Harry tossed the ball again, and after a few iterations, they had found a comfortable rhythm of tossing and catching.
“Legilimency is tricky, Harry,” Janus said, effortlessly continuing the game of catch as he spoke. “Even on someone without training, it’s not trivial, and the more hard-headed the person, the harder it is to get through even innate defenses. You take someone like Draco and give him formal training in Occlumency, his thoughts are suddenly the gold in Fort Knox. Getting through is going to be tougher than brewing a batch of Baneberry potion. You know how to do that, by the way?”
“Brew Baneberry potion? Why? I don’t want to poison Draco or Pansy. I just want to see what he’s thinking.”
“I’m not asking you to make it!” Janus chuckled. “I’m asking you how to make it. You remember?”
“Well, you use a cauldron, and an alembic.” Harry bit his lip, trying to recall a long-ago lesson from Snape. Ron’s Baneberry potion had fizzed onto the floor, filling the room with noxious vapors and earning Ron detention for his incompetence. Harry had also received detention, supposedly for distracting Ron. “You triturate the baneberries, first, but not too hard, because the heat from the friction can damage the essence…”
As he wracked his brain for the details, Janus threw the ball with a swift, overhand stroke, sending it whizzing by, just out of Harry’s reach. He reacted too slowly, and the ball bounced off the wall behind him, falling to the floor. When he knelt to retrieve it, Janus pounced, taking Harry by the chin and tilting his face upwards.
What followed next was a barrage of images, sounds, smells, and emotions-- pain, a flash of light, Vernon Dursley, angry and red-faced, looming over him, the click of the closet door, the smell of fungus and peeling paint, Dudley’s laughter mingled with cartoon music from the other room.
“You…” Harry managed to get out.
Janus didn’t reply. His hazel eyes remained fixed on Harry’s as the journey continued. …let’s drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw. Not that I’m supposed to take sides as a teacher. The taste of butterbeer, and something sweeter, knowing that a grown-up cared about him. More images swirled in Harry’s mind--Lupin, speaking kindly to Neville, Lupin, pitting the students against the Boggart. Just when Harry thought his mind was trapped in some inescapable realm filled only with Remus Lupin, other memories began flying by. He relived Cedric’s death, his duel with Voldemort, his own torture at the hands of Dolores Umbridge in this very office, the search for the horcruxes, the sense of calm that came with marching to his own death.
“No…” Harry panted with effort. Trying to drag his mind back to the present was like swimming in molasses. He had to break free. He couldn’t let Janus see him on his hands and knees in the broken glass, trying not to scream as Draco took him. Thinking of the memory he most wanted to hide brought it to the surface, and Janus recoiled, letting go of Harry’s chin and falling down to his knees beside Harry.
“I didn’t mean to go there,” Janus said softly. “I didn’t mean to do more than touch, but once I was in…” Janus sat down and leaned back against the bookshelf, motioning for Harry to do the same. “Legilimency changes the way you see the world. Almost everyone around you has something you want, something you need, or something you can use, and when you know you can take it, well, there’ll be times you give in. Just like I took your memories of Remus. It was like seeing him again, Harry, but this time through your eyes.”
“I didn’t mind that part,” Harry said bitterly. “It was the rest…”
“I’m sorry!” Janus threw up his hands, palms out. “Some parts of your mind, they’re like whirlpools, sucking in everything that comes near. I tried to steer clear, but I won’t lie--it’s not smooth sailing in there.” He tapped Harry’s forehead with a finger.
“It’s over. It--it doesn’t matter.” Harry sighed and glanced up at Janus without quite meeting his eyes. “Just tell me how I can do to Draco, what you did to me.”
“It’s mostly distraction.” Janus picked the ball up off the floor and stood it on its end, twirling it between his knees. “That, and getting the target to lower his defenses. I could distract you by punching you in the face, but that would be counter-productive. You’d go into fight-or-flight and raise your guard. Playing catch, though, and trying to remember a potions lesson from second year, that’s not threatening; just hard.”
“So I find a way to distract him without hurting him.” Harry nodded to himself.
“Right,” Janus agreed. “Then you need eye contact, if you can make it. Physical contact is even better, and both never hurts. Cast the spell nonverbally without your wand, and you’ve got a good chance.”
“And manage all of that without being able to practice outside of class.” Harry snorted. “I’m beginning to think you only agreed to teach me because you know I’ll never really be able to do it.”
“Correction, Harry! Manage to do all that without getting caught practicing outside of class.” Janus winked. “Choose your practice targets carefully. Stick to the trusting types, people who won’t think too hard about what you’re doing. Get out as soon as you get in, and try to forget what you see.”
“How do you forget?”
“It gets easier. After a while, the inside of a mind starts to seem like, well, the other type of insides. Everybody’s pretty much look the same.” Janus leaned back against the bookshelf, moving his face into the path of a sunbeam. The light glared on his skin, highlighting dark circles under his eyes as well as the traces of age lines at the corners.
Harry frowned, imagining what it would be like to peek into minds, seeing so many thoughts that they all blurred together. He wondered if Draco was truly worth the trouble.
“Course, once in a while, you find someone extraordinary.” Janus took Harry by the hand and stood up, pulling Harry with him.
Harry stepped backwards, withdrawing his hand and, making sure not to look Janus in the eyes. His stomach knotted at the thought of Janus looking inside his mind right now. The memory blazing in his brain was of standing at Janus’ bedroom door. I can’t do this…not with you, not with anyone.
“Thanks for the lesson, Professor Vulpin,” Harry said.
“When it’s just you and me, it’s just Janus.”
“Right.” Harry turned, opened the office door, and moved into the crowded hallway. He navigated through the stream of students without recognizing anyone, and headed toward the library. He wondered what books Ron and Hermione had found, and for once he actually planned to read them instead of merely listening to Hermione’s explanation.
Choose your practice targets carefully, Janus had said. Spying on the daydreams of first years wouldn’t prepare him for Draco, though. Harry had a different practice target in mind.
-------------------------------------------

Tawny inhaled deeply, tasting the air of Knockturn Alley and sorting through the bouquet of foul odors for the particular stench of Jett’s killer. The fur on her back prickled, and she felt her tail bristle as she caught a whiff of something not quite human and not quite animal. Her ears swiveled at the sound of footsteps behind her, and she whirled on the spot, growling until her eyes focused on the man who had just stepped out into the moonlit alleyway. She stood up, transforming as she did.
“Hello, Talon.”
The man leaned casually against the side of the building and brought a cigarette to his lips for a moment. “The murdered girl, she was your… what? Tell me.”
The skin on her back prickled as it had a moment ago, although there was no fur to stand on end now. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket to hide the fact that she had clenched her fists. Janus had been right, she reminded herself. Talon wasn’t replacing Jett, and besides, she hated the taste of his feathers. “She was a friend.”
“Just a friend?” He took another long drag on the cigarette as he waited for her answer, making it glow even brighter.
“No ‘just’ about it. My parents practically raised her along with me. She was…”
“Family.” Talon finished. “I can make allowances for someone who lost family. Up to a point.” He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his boot, extinguishing the glow. “You should not be walking alone. What happened to your American friend?”
“He’s… busy tonight.” Not that it’s any of your business.
“Then you should apparate. Can you?”
She shook her head.
“I can take you home. Tell me where you live.” He held out a hand.
“No, thank you.”
“Do not be foolish, Tawny. Come.” He held out his hand again, as if she were an unruly child that he planned to drag home in disgrace. “If you’re afraid I plan revenge for my tail feathers…” He laughed.
“I’m not afraid of you!” she snapped. “I just want to walk, that’s all. It helps me clear my head.” And I’m more likely to get a shot at Moreaux if I’m alone in a dark alley.
“As you wish.” Talon shrugged. His body shrank, and she felt a gust of wind from his wings as he flapped into the air and soared into the night.
The gravel in the alleyway crunched beneath her feet as she walked toward her apartment building. If she changed, she would be able to smell and hear the danger, but as she was, she would look more vulnerable and tempting, so she stayed human. Every sound sent her heart racing—the rustle of a plastic bag being tossed in the breeze, the shrieks from a nearby cat fight, and a series of small noises coming from shadows near a set of dumpsters. She heard muted breathing and faint sounds of movement, as if something were rubbing against the metallic surfaces.
“It’s you. Isn’t it?” She waited for a reply of some kind, maybe a bark or growl. None came, but she could hear the breathing more clearly now. “I don’t understand why you won’t show yourself! Unless you’re not who I think you are.” Her hand found its way inside her jacket and closed around the butt of her wand.
Something moved in the shadows, and the moonlight reflected from a pair of eyes.
End of Chapter 41
Lyrics: "Another Brick In The Wall" by Pink Floyd
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Darkness Within The Light