The eyes of every person in the room were now turned towards the entrance. There, clad in cardigan and with a small notepad in her hands, stood the High Inquisitor herself. Her smile was reminiscent of a toad satisfied with the fly she had caught. Professor Fenton looked at her with concern.

"Do you need cough medicine, Dolores?" He asked, and only a fool wouldn't notice how feigned his feelings were.

Several students snickered at his greeting. Whether Umbridge noticed his jab or not, she still went forward with the same ugly smile.

"Thank you for your concern, Professor. However, I am more than healthy. And it is Miss Umbridge."

"Whatever you say," Fenton shrugged.

"No, no. This just won't do. You should respond 'Yes, Ms. Umbridge.' So we know that we are on the same page."

Everyone in the room shot her incredulous looks. She made demands of him as if the professor was a little student. Fenton, however, looked largely unfazed.

"Is there a reason you are here, Dolores?"

"I told you how to address me."

"And that's why you are still a Miss at your age. I repeat my question."

He obviously was not backing down. From the start it was promising to be an interesting confrontation. Harry diverted his entire attention to it, wondering how his new professor would act around the woman from the Ministry. It would probably affect his general attitude towards the man. Dolores herself seemed perplexed at such stubborn return to square one, but the question had been asked.

"Why, to evaluate the courses, of course. You don't mind my presence, I hope?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. The teacher shrugged again.

"As long as you don't disrupt the process. You can take a seat."

The only free seat was in the very back of the class. That, coupled with his dismissive tone, foreboded troubles and showed his attitude just right. Dolores stayed in her spot. "No, thank you, I think I will stay here. I didn't manage to visit your first lesson, professor, but what were you doing then? You said 'the first subject'."

"Ah, that," The professor rubbed the back of his neck. "We were busying ourselves with revision."

"That is a proper way," Dolores said, "And what was that?"

"You can ask this after class. We really need to get going."

"But I am asking this now."

She received a minor glare. "Disarming Charm."

Her eyes widened a bit, "At your first lesson?"

"Practice makes perfect, as they say."

She quickly scribbled something in the notepad. "And said practice was conducted using wands, I presume."

"They are not for picking your nose, you know," Rebutted Fenton. Again with the scribbles.

"You have received the notifications from the Ministry about our standards."

"So that's what it was!" The Professor's expression lit up in a mock realisation. "My fireplace was dying off, you see..."

The expression of the Inquisitor was almost comical, and Harry couldn't resist a snort of laughter. He wasn't alone in that sentiment, it appeared.

"Such... such disregard will never..."

"I was kidding, Dolores. But since those recommendations were stupid, I decided to ignore them."

"This brutal ignorance will lead to severe repercussions, Mr. Fenton."

"Dolores," Fenton sighed, giving every sign that this discussion bored him. "You are taking up our precious time."

"This time," she almost snapped. "Will be wasted unless you adhere to the standards created by our best specialists."

"You should fire them, then," the professor responded, not batting an eye. "Not a single defensive spell in the program. This goes against the whole point of this subject. It has 'Defence' in the title, for crying out loud."

"You are not a Ministry-approved expert to be the judge of that, professor. Someone much more capable and experienced than your young self has devised this program," Umbridge made a step towards him. "Students are meant to study in a safe, risk-free way."

"This won't be useful at all," Harry suddenly spoke up. "Even if we use the spells out there, it won't be in safe..."

"I didn't ask you, Mr. Potter," responded Umbridge.

Harry was about to protest again, but then he saw the professor was swiping his palm across his neck in a universal gesture of keeping one's mouth shut. Umbridge, with her back turned towards the man, completely missed the gesture.

"He is correct," the professor said. "Dark Creatures don't just sit and listen to your arguments. And they don't wait until you remember what that one book told you."

"Are you implying that children are going to be attacked during your classes?" Umbridge's irritating smile came back.

"No, I am not..."

"Then what is the..."

"We both can interrupt, Dolores," the professor snapped. "If you listened, the amount of your questions would have been much smaller. Danger can come from anywhere. Mere theory will not suffice."

"There is nothing dangerous within this school."

A triumphant grin threatened to split the man's face, "So you are saying that you are not needed here?"

Without even waiting for the response from the frustrated toad lady, he continued. "By 'anywhere' I mean anywhere, Dolores. Your Ministry did jack shit when it came to a giant snake slithering around. You just tried to toss the Headmaster into Azkaban. Without sending a single auror to deal with the actual issue. It is YOU who let soul-sucking demons near the children. And yet you have the AUDACITY to teach me about how I am supposed to follow YOUR safety standards? You are a bunch of incompetent crooks who are ready to risk the kids' lives in the future so that your own pathetic paranoia will be put to rest. There are dangers out there, too."

Umbridge looked ready to burst like an overheated kettle, "I will get you fired for such words," she hissed. "There is nothing dangerous out there."

"Really?" The professor crossed his hands.

"Yes. Really. What do you even think will attack the students?"

"Well, one such student was attacked, correct? Avada Kedavra is not some common cold you catch without your scarf, Dolores."

"Are you insinuating..."

"That Voldemort is back?"

Ron gasped; Harry stared wide-eyed at the professor; A little scream was heard from some place in the room; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Umbridge glared at the man who dared utter the name in her presence.

"I wouldn't go that far," Fenton added. "Even if he may have Horcruxes for all I know."

Harry perked up. He had never heard of Voldemort having those things, whatever they were. But from how the professor chose to put it, it was actually something the dark wizard could try.

"What even is this?!" She demanded to know, earning herself a huff.

"And you actually wanted to become a teacher instead of me. The threat of Death Eaters is more than tangible, Dolores. Not to mention that you can always buy a bestiary and just go over the list of things that can kill you. We've already lost so much time for such pointless talk. If you do not intend to watch the teaching process, you are free to go," he said, as if addressing a rowdy student, "You have already made up your mind."

"No, I think I will stay. After all, there are standards to uphold," she declared, as if she had won the argument by that phrase alone.

She still had to take a seat in another end of the class. Peering right into Harry's back. He already loathed that woman, having her at such vicinity was unnerving.

And obviously, not a single word could possibly be said with her so close. Thus, Harry had to make up his mind alone. While the professor already had his sympathies, with how he taught and how thorough he was, his position on the current affairs was what made Harry like the man even more. He was obviously reluctant to make a claim of Voldemort's return, at least in Umbridge's presence. He shut her up so well, but Harry still feared what repercussions would follow. Professor Fenton rubbed his temples, looked at the clocks and coughed.

"Where was I? Ah, yes. The first subject is... Miss Granger, you want something?"

"Sorry for taking even more time, professor..."

"Don't sweat it. It is already ruined."

"What are those 'Horcruxes' you mentioned?" She asked.

The professor's look became much harder, more so than during his argument with Umbridge.

"Me and my stupid mouth," he muttered, "This is not something you get taught in Hogwarts. You won't find mentions of it in the Restricted Section of the library. This is the most disgusting and secret Dark Art, Miss Granger. That's all I will say, I'm afraid. This is not something you need to know and I would ask you to not bring it up so casually," he said seriously.

Harry concluded that he still needed to know it. Not to practice it himself, obviously, but if such art could be used by Voldemort, he had to learn what it meant. And from the look in Hermione's eyes, he could guess that she would pester the man with it and try to actually find the information herself.

"Now, back to the topic of hex-deflection..."

The rest of lesson professor spent giving a lecture on the protective spells, such as those targeting a small area. He explained the incantation, the movements and its brief history. All in a very hurried way, so Harry's hand was hurting by the end of the lesson. Umbridge, thankfully, remained silent for the duration of the lecture. In the end, the professor took a sigh himself.

"For your homework, you will read chapter three of your student books, as well as give the description and incantation of at least fifteen hexes that this spell can protect you from. I won't specify the size, but write more than a brief sentence for each. Dismissed."

As the students began packing and leaving, Umbridge strolled out of the room without saying any extra words. The Gryffindor trio prevented Neville from leaving, not having forgotten the decision to discuss the boy's pairing with Malfoy. Fenton was sitting at his desk at the moment, writing something on the parchment. As the students approached him, the professor looked up, and the look of realisation appeared on his face.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. So, you were unhappy with your partner, Mr. Longbottom?" He asked.

"Uhm... I... you see..."

"Professor," Hermione spoke up, "Neville has been bullied by Malfoy ever since the first year. Putting them together is a very bad idea."

The raven-haired man hummed, "Is that so?"

He received several nods and after that, he sighed. "You must understand that if I change one pair, it will go south really quickly."

"But sir, I don't think Malfoy will even bother with this, house points are not that important to him," Harry pointed out.

"I was told about him and his family. Along the lines of 'be careful not to upset too much'."

"Professors really say this?" Ron remained wide-eyed.

"I won't mention the names, though," Fenton smirked. "Families such as this demand good performance. I don't think his family would be happy with him harming the success rate just because he was lazy."

"But Malfoys hate his family, too. I don't think they will mind if that's the reason."

The professor sighed, leaning back in his seat. For a moment the kids thought that the past argument with Umbridge harmed his willingness to argue more.

"I'll talk with Malfoy the next time we meet. If there is no progress or he seriously mistreats your friend, don't hesitate to come and tell me. I'll postpone Neville's small exam then and assign one of you instead. Anything else?"

"Could we also swap..."

Ron didn't finish his sentence, as Hermione nudged the fellow prefect. He obviously wanted to ditch Goyle to someone else. But that would come across as too demanding. Neville had his own, much more important reasons. Then, Hermione spoke up again.

"Thank you, sir. Could I also ask for something?" At his gesture she continued. "You mentioned a letter with recommendations from the Ministry. Could you give it to us, please?"

Fenton blinked. "Sure, I don't think it is confidential. Let me just fetch it," he said and walked to his office. Soon after he emerged, holding an open envelope in his hand. He handed it to Hermione, who briefly thanked him and turned to leave.

Ron followed her, and so did Neville. Harry, however, whispered for them to go ahead. Confused, his friends still left, leaving the teen alone with the professor.

"Something you need, Harry?" He asked. "You don't mind the familiarity, I hope?"

"Not at all," Harry said.

"It is not a lesson. I don't think we need all those silly honorifics now," the professor smiled. "So..."

"I was meaning to ask... you can dismiss me, but it is really important."

"You want to know about Horcruxes," said the professor grimly.

"How did you know?" Asked Harry in surprise.

"Please, you and Voldemort are two inseparable topics."

"Why do you call him by name? I've only seen Dumbledore do that."

"You do so, too. But I guess it's because you are what you are. There are many people and creatures worse than him, Harry. Even among muggles. Especially among muggles," he muttered quietly, surprising the boy, "And if you fear to even say his stupid name that doesn't mean anything, it means he won in some aspects. Why do you want to know about those disgusting things?"

"Because he really is back, professor. And if there is a chance he might use them, I need to know."

Fenton shook his head and got up. "I'm not dismissing you because I don't believe you, Harry. I'm doing it because it really is a very dangerous knowledge."

"So what?" Harry almost snapped, but quickly realised his mistake. "I've never been told anything, sir. I didn't even know what the Ministry wrote about me until I was brought to Wizengamot. I didn't know about Basilisk or other things... It is Voldemort that tries to attack me, isn't this what you warned us about? I need to be prepared!"

The teacher remained silent for a while, glancing at him, then out of the window, as if Voldemort was right there, flying on a broomstick.

"Horcruxes are not something used in battle," Danny said as he turned to him, giving hopes to the teen that further explanation would follow. "I don't think you need to know anything beyond that. He is not going to throw them at you."

"But even if he is using it out there..."

"You won't be able to do anything. I'm just saying that the force opposing you is too great. I know how you must feel, Harry, believe me, I do. Hell, I was like your friend Neville for most of my school years. You get where I'm going with it?"

"You are saying I need to get stronger?"

"Yep. And studying well at least in my subject will do just that."

"But I can't just sit..."

"Can you cast Fiendfyre, Mr. Potter?" Asked Danny, annoyed with the stubbornness. And Harry could only shake his head. "Then you won't even scratch a Horcrux. It is an advanced dark magic, so I seriously advise that you drop it. I'm certainly not going to teach it. I hope you understand."

Harry nodded begrudgingly. The professor was not convinced.

"Harry. I can't go around teaching dark spells. I'll get fired immediately if I do. Hogwarts will get into another scandal and YOU will be in its middle."

"But aren't there any other ways?"

The professor shook his head. "All of those ways are dark by nature, just like the objects they can destroy. At least, those that I know of."

Harry looked at the floor, his hopes of learning something possibly related to the Dark Lord shattered. In truth, Danny knew of one way he himself could destroy a horcrux. He had theorised that a shard of a soul held within could be extracted. It would perish in the open. Supposedly. The professor had never seen one in real life.

"We don't even know if Voldemort has one, Harry. It was just a small comment I made while I was pissed. Don't pay it too much mind. I also ask not to share the contents of this discussion with everyone you see. After all, if Voldemort happens to know or believes that you know about his actually existing Horcrux, he will stay on guard. So, you should really stay quiet."

"I understand, sir," Harry said grimly.

"I have a question of my own, actually. I know that after leaving you so anxious it sounds odd, but..."

"I'll try to answer."

"Do you... you know... think that I teach well?" The professor asked.

Harry was surprised by the sudden change of mood. Fenton now looked more like a fellow student, embarrassed and somewhat confused.

"Be honest. My job depends on it."

"Sir, you are doing nice," Harry said with a small smile. "Your lesson was informative, too."

And he got a smile in return. "You don't get points for flattery, though," he responded as they both chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Then let's both work hard this year. Go on now, you still have a ton of homework."

In the end, as he was leaving, Harry was, admittedly, frustrated. Fenton was a really nice person, keeping cool even if Harry may have come across as somebody pulling an answer like a dentist pulls teeth out. But Harry really was tired of everyone keeping secrets from him. Maybe it WAS nothing. But then there were even less reasons to withhold information, were there?

Danny, in the meantime, frowned and tapped on the ground, now alone in his classroom. That conversation was enlightening not only for the teen, but for him as well. He had never actually thought of such possibility, not that he even cared all that much. However, mistake of nature he himself could be, the Dark Lord's violation of the most basic law of said nature angered the man to no end. Danny was forced into such existence, Voldemort had performed that vile ritual because he, just like other dark wizards before, wished to become immortal. The arrogant fool. Something pulsated in Danny's chest, the desire to finish off that fool rang in his mind. But, he was just a teacher, with no way of attaining the required information. Speaking of information, he needed to also know more about the dreaded High Inquisitor. Guess he would call in a couple of favours. That knowledge was far easier to find.

-Linebreak-

"This is insane!"

Hermione's exclamation snapped the half-asleep Ron out of his trance. The redhead looked back on his parchment with potions homework, and, seeing only the headline, sighed. Harry snapped out of his thoughts, too, wondering what caused such reaction. Then he saw the parchment that Professor Fenton had given her. The one with the Ministry recommendation.

"What is it, 'Mione?" Asked Ron tiredly.

"Fenton wasn't kidding. This whole program is a joke!" The girl was fuming at this point. "'Conflict avoidance course', 'Theory', 'Fleeing'. All of this is just..."

Harry stared at her. "Are you serious?" He asked in shock, taking the list himself. And, true enough, everything was listed there. Ron glanced at it as well, and his eyes went wide as saucers.

"They really lost their marbles," The redhead muttered. "Well, makes you glad that Fenton ignores it."

"He is really risking it," mumbled Hermione bitterly, "If he gets fired, we will be studying this instead."

"He really showed that toad," Ron smirked, but then it quickly fell. "He is in trouble, isn't he?"

"Umbridge really hates him now," Harry pointed out, "But he didn't seem worried, did he?"

"Yes. Maybe Dumbledore's got it covered. Or Fenton is just good at hiding things and staying calm. He is the only teacher so far that didn't pester us with how important O.W.L.s are."

"They are important, Ron."

"Yeah, but... I dunno, I just feel much calmer about DADA than the rest. By the way... what did you talk about, Harry?"

The question caught Harry off-guard.

"Oh, it's... it's nothing important."

"Come on, Harry, mate," Ron said. "This is an obvious lie."

"You spoke about Horcruxes, didn't you?" Hermione whispered.

Harry remained silent, which was an answer enough.

"I see. And what did he say?"

"That's the whole point. He wouldn't tell. He only reassured me that they are not a curse. I think that Horcrux is an object, with how he spoke about its destruction and how hard it is. Is there any chance we can find something?"

"You heard him. You won't learn anything about it in Hogwarts. And I don't think anyone will like you asking around. It IS dark magic," advised Hermione. "Besides, we have plenty of work to do and without it. I'm sure that if You-Know-Who has a Horcrux, Dumbledore would know and do something about it."

Dumbledore. She was putting so much trust in the man. Harry sombrely noted to himself that even if the old headmaster knew, he would not tell. His friends were even forbidden to write to him during the summer, and it was all on Dumbledore's orders. He was purposely kept in the dark, and Harry was so tired, angry about it. And still, he had no choice but to get to work, even if his mind was not focused on moonstones at all.

-Linebreak-

Danny didn't know how to feel about his duties in the evening. On one hand, he had other things to do closer to midnight. Other than patrolling the corridors in search of wandering students. On the other, it was probably good not to get cooped up in his study all day. And it was also a nice feeling, akin to the one kids got when they were allowed to stay up until late. Ironically, Danny shared the desire of said students not to encounter one particular caretaker. He wouldn't get into any trouble, mind you, but the conversations with the man smelling of old age tended to be quite unpleasant in any case. The young professor was busy patrolling the area close to his own bedroom, along the serpentine corridor. Occasionally he would encounter a ghost or two passing by. They all gave him worried glances, making him wonder just what rumours were circulating around the undead realm if that was their reaction.

Not all was bad, however, Sir Nicholas came by, and Danny once again listened to Nick ramble about not being accepted to the Headless Hunt. Again. Danny wished he could fix that issue, but he knew he couldn't, and in response to the ghost's suggestion he gave a professional explanation. Spectres such as Nick were but echoes of their former selves, limited, without a physical form of their own. Yes, Danny could touch them, he could even rip Nick's head off. But it would undoubtedly just reattach itself by that tiny piece of immaterial flesh. For that same reason Bloody Baron was still smeared with blood. Sir Nicholas seemed to remain crestfallen about that fact, but remained polite enough to say thank yous and goodbyes, before flying away. Danny really pitied the local spectres, who were all but incapacitated in their amortality.

His negative thoughts, however, were quickly got rid of. Danny wasn't the person to dwell on something for a long while. Besides, his hearing was catching something coming from behind one of the doors. The sounds that reminded him of... moans. Quietly approaching one of the older classrooms, Danny swung the door open. What he received were two screams of surprise and a very... intimate scene involving two students.

Seemingly not bothering with the students, he looked at the robes that lied on the floor near the doors, making out the House emblems just fine under the moonlight coming from the window.

"Fifteen points from both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor," Danny declared. "Sheesh. Locking up a bunch of teenagers in a castle," he muttered. "Of course it would happen."

Danny really didn't want to give any detentions. It was as much of a punishment for kids as it was for the teacher, who had to sit and watch over the process instead of doing their own things.

"Stop staring!" A girl shrieked.

The professor's look wasn't that of amusement. "The chest department is a bit lacking," he commented quietly. "It's already close to midnight, you two. Go back to your rooms right now and we will do without detentions."

Danny waited outside until the two seven-years emerged, now fully dressed, but extremely angry.

"Don't give me that look," he said dryly. "Go now. I'll try and forget this incident."

He was probably too easy on the children. Staying up late usually equalled detentions, but with his rich history of being late to the curfews he was very lenient in such cases. He couldn't help it, even if his reasons, namely fighting very dangerous spectres, were far more understandable than the carnal desires of the youth. Danny watched the teens disappear around the corner, and an idea occurred to him. Maybe he could be even sneakier. With that thought in mind, he vanished from sight, like a half-ghost he was. Not heard, not seen, he could sneak up on anyone and avoid Filch. Quite convenient, because quite soon he would have bumped right into the man. This way, however, Danny just slid past him.

Last time he checked his watch it was around eleven. He couldn't do that now, while invisible, obviously. So, he probably had another half an hour to spend in those corridors. Neat. His lurking was not rewarding in the least, and he probably got the scorn of two kids already. Danny, not burdened by fears of being seen, skipped the staircases and jumped straight down. Softly landing on the ground, he decided to snag a bite in the kitchen while he was at it. Certainly the house elves wouldn't mind. And they didn't, there were some leftovers from dinner which he took without calling any attention to himself. Phantom was about to return after time very productively spent, and he reached his floor. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, two redheads emerged, startling the professor to no end.

That's not how it was supposed to go, damn it, Danny mentally cursed. Still, he himself remained unnoticed, and the adolescents seemed to remain in blissful ignorance. The professor followed those twins for some time, seeing them carrying some boxes. Contraband. Narrowing his eyes just a bit, Danny still prepared to enjoy what's going to happen.

"Well, well," his disembodied voice asked. "What do we have here?"

The twins turned around, but they saw nothing. Grinning, the professor walked behind their backs again, dropping invisibility.

"A couple of famous troublemakers, I presume?"

The redheads jumped and met face-to-face with the teacher.

"Professor!" They called in synchrony. "It's not what you think!"

Their shock didn't wear off quickly, but their fear of having been caught was far greater than that of the professor's illusive nature.

"Open them," he ordered softly.

Fred and George had no choice but to comply. The guy may have been only three years older than them, but he still had the authority to drag them to McGonagall by the lobes of their ears. Once they opened their small boxes, the professor began examining the contents. Dungbombs, Peace disturbers and fireworks of all things. Danny whistled.

"Ancients, you plan to blow up the school or what?" He asked. "Nevermind. I'm confiscating this stuff."

The twins winced. "Sorry, professor," one of them said.

"But these things are not forbidden in Hogwarts."

"Well, some of them."

Danny raised an eyebrow and sighed, picking up the boxes. "I don't have the time nor the desire to sort them. Consider this a punishment, you two. And be happy that I have no desire of taking over fifty points from Gryffindor in a single night."

On one hand, the twins were relieved to get away so scar-free. On the other, he took their toys, some of which were their own prototypes that shouldn't be within anyone else's hands.

"Follow me," the professor ordered.

Not sure of where he would lead them, the twins had no choice to oblige. However, soon it became clear where the man was going, and a wave of relief passed over them. He was going to their Common room, and with the teacher near them, they had a perfect alibi to be protected from Filch's grasp. Danny came to an abrupt halt near a portrait of a chubby lady in white dress.

"Alright," Fenton said. "You go in and... ponder on your mistakes or something. Is that what professors have to say?" He mumbled in the end.

The twins couldn't help but snicker. The guy tried to appear stern sometimes, but it just wasn't his credo.

"Cut it out, you smartasses," Fenton said. "It's just this time. The next will end with you missing out on Quidditch while writing lines."

Despite no weight in his tone, the threat itself did the trick just fine. His disappearing act that could make Filch jealous instilled some paranoia as well. How did he do that, by the way?

"Cya!" Danny smiled and left.

"What say you, dearest brother?" Fred asked quietly.

"We do need our marvels back."

"That we do. The usual plan?"

"Indeed."

In the meantime, in another corridor, Danny rummaged through the box of confiscated items. A huge, devious smirk was on his face as well.

-Linebreak-

The next morning came, and after the breakfast Harry was about to head for the Charms lesson. Ron and Hermione yet again had a spat, and now only the redhead was accompanying him. Apparently, the girl's attempts at freeing elves, as well as her knitting abilities did not stand for critique. Soon after they left the Great Hall, however, the two met face to face with Malfoy and his inseparable cronies that he called friends, who were obviously waiting for them.

"Potter," the blonde called, making both friends stop and look at him.

"What do you want, Draco?" Asked Harry and narrowed his eyes. Draco chose to ignore this, or, at least, he didn't look more displeased than usual.

"It's about that moronic assignment."

"You need him to teach you all of a sudden?" Mocked Ron and smirked.

"Your attempts at humour, Weasley, are long since surpassed by the soles of my shoes."

"What even do..."

"Crabbe and Goyle are here. You help them, don't you?"

"Yes..."

"Then do it and arrange the schedule between yourselves. Where is Longbottom?"

"I don't carry my friends around like henchmen, Malfoy," responded Harry dryly. "You can find him during the common classes. And you better actually help him."

Malfoy snorted, "I've already given up on that buffoon."

"We haven't refused training these two."

"Good for you," Draco remarked sarcastically.

"You will get points taken from your house, Malfoy. Maybe even get detention."

Despite how Harry wanted to get the brat away from Neville, the warning of how the responsibility would fall on him or Ron did somewhat dissuade him from going in that direction. Not yet. There was a ton of work to do and without it. Better try and change the situation here and now, because immediately going to a teacher, no matter how nice they were, and telling on someone was a thing Malfoy himself would do.

"Father won't stand for it."

"So typical of you to bring up your Dad," Harry spat. "And admit that you are helpless without him."

"At least I have one, Potter."

"At least mine wasn't a Death Eater."

The glaring match would have gone on for much longer had Ron not interfered.

"We are going to be late for class," he reminded.

"Yeah, let's go. You two!" Harry called for Crabbe and Goyle. "We'll talk to you during lunch."

When the hour came for eating, the Gryffindor trio once again reunited, and the conversations there were not exactly optimistic. Hermione told them that Parkinson would not even talk to her. A bit later Ron and Harry approached two Slytherins with probably the lowest grades in the entire year. Near the entrance to the Hall they tried to arrange the schedule. Harry made it clear that it would not happen on Friday, because Gryffindor tryouts were to happen on that day. Surprisingly, Ron was just as adamant about it, but his friend did not address it, too busy with what he thought was the dumbest exchange he ever had. Come to think of it, it was probably the first time they talked, Malfoy usually was the one doing it instead. The henchmen also did not express much desire to do anything at all. Fenton's endeavour was already showing cracks, it would appear. Thankfully, they agreed on meeting that day after classes and go to Fenton on Wednesday for practicing. That's how other people did it, or so Harry had heard. Maybe it was because many had hopes that the teacher would do the job for them. As he probably should.

At the time when Harry and his friends were busy, trying to do something about their homework, Fred and George were busy concocting a scheme to take their boxes with tricks back. Their tried and true method was probably not going to work on Filch, but the newbie was most likely unprepared for what was coming. Their plan was simple: to lure the professor away from his room and sneak in, grabbing the goods in the process. They were only going to take the necessities. Since their next lesson was going to be with Fenton of all people, neither side could go there at that time. So they had to act swiftly while Fenton was there, in front of everyone, at the staff table, enjoying his lunch. Since the man had just started, they took it as a cue to leave, unaware that the professor saw them leave.

The twins quickly got to the required corridor, knowing the school like the backs of their hands. Stopping near the door of the professor's room, they grinned. But the door was locked, so the way in wasn't going to be easy.

"Cast Alohomora," Fred whispered.

"You think the guy will make it that easy?"

"It's worth a try," a shrug followed.

George pointed his wand at the lock and muttered a spell. To the surprise of the redheads, it opened with no extra resistance. Apparently, the professor had not casted any protective charms on it. Slowly opening the door, the twins went in, their eyes quickly going over what was within the teacher's bedroom. For one, his bed was still a mess, like that of any student who was being late. A mess of equal proportions was on the table, filled with all sorts of equipment and pieces of parchment. The shelves were filled with all sorts of strange books in different languages. There, on one of them, rested two boxes that the Weasleys sought. However, the task soon proved to be much harder than they had initially thought.

Once they stepped on the carpet that encompassed a large part of the floor, a surge of painful electricity ran through their bodies. Nothing painful, but they both yelped in surprise and jumped away.

"Blimey..."

"What do we do now?"

"Accio, boxes of tricks," Fred casted a spell, and both boxes flew into his hands. The triumphant smirks soon vanished upon heavy realisation that they were, in fact, empty. "Well, that doesn't look well."

George looked out into the corridor and checked if the professor was anywhere near. No such thing.

"Any ideas where he might have put them?"

"Maybe we should try again. Accio... Nose-bleed nougat!"

The twins heard a thud coming from the lowest locker. Right beneath the shelves and separated from the twins by the dreaded carpet. There was no way for them to sidestep the thing without causing chaos in the room. And thus making the professor angrier than he otherwise would have been.

"Maybe we should jump? We'll make it in two leaps."

"I don't want to get shocked twice. When did he even get this thing? It's amazing!"

"That sure is a neat concept. Too bad we can't ask him. Just let's get to it quickly."

Nodding to each other, the twins jumped. Landing in the middle of the carpet, they both winced as the weak surge of electricity rushed through them. It kept going as they kept their feet on the wooly trap. George jumped further, getting a break in the air, before submerging in the world of steadily moving electrons once more. Fred, however, tripped as he landed, falling right on his back.

"Ow, ow, ow!" He kept wriggling, trying to get up and feeling more shocks, before his brother helped him to his feet.

"Al...ouch...Alohomora!"

The lock on opened and the twins dug inside the small wooden container. There, alongside the tricks they had tried to get was a note.

'Got you'

And as their faces turned into those of horror, they heard a loud, childish laughter behind them. There, near the doors, stood Professor Fenton himself, guffawing and ready to roll on the floor with laughter.

"Oh, that was a good one!" He smirked and wiped a tear. "Come here, you two."

He snickered a little more as the twins slowly reached another end of the carpet and finally stepped on the solid floor. At least he didn't look mad, the twins reasoned.

"Wait... you knew we would come?" Asked Fred.

"I would certainly know. After all," as Fenton was behind them, he gave each of them a one-armed hug. "We are kindred spirits. That's what I would do."

"You let us come here on purpose? Sir?"

"Why yes. I had a good laugh," he released them. "Haven't had those in a while. Sorry about the carpet. You ain't hurt, are you?"

"No, it went away when we didn't stay on that thing."

"What is it?" They asked in unison as they looked at the thing. Danny put hands in his pockets.

"Just a little magical toy I made in my days as a student. Got an idea from muggles. They sell those tricks that look like treats. But when you try to take it out of the wrapper, bam, it gives you a small shock."

"It's a really neat concept. Why didn't we think of it, George?"

"I don't know, Fred," his brother shrugged, "A carpet is a bit hard to use, though."

"Well, I used what I had at the time," Danny grumbled slightly. "It found its use, though, don't you agree?"

"How do you move around with that thing in the middle of the room?"

"It doesn't harm me," he explained simply, omitting the part of his not touching the ground at any given time. "Sadly, that's the only thing I have. I asked McGonagall to make it larger, to make the room cosier," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I suck at Transfiguration."

The twins cackled.

"Now," he quickly cut off their laughter. "I am not giving those things you had back."

"But sir... we are experimenting, too!"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Oh, are you now?"

"Yes! We can show you some. But we still need to polish them, see?"

"Hm..." Danny rubbed his chin. "I would look so hypocritical for not giving in to your noble intentions," he said dramatically. "And you won't stop trying to get it back."

"We certainly will, Professor."

Danny smirked. "Are you saying that you would try to outsmart me?"

"And we will do that," The twins smirked, too.

"I have more experience than you," Danny assumed an imposing presence, "Once I made the walls of my uncle's bathroom invisible. With witnesses all around and him enjoying his bath. With a rubber duck. He became a mayor of town just to spite me with his decrees. And I actually won in the end. Are you sure that you want to start such war?"

"Bring it!" The redheads gave a unanimous decision.

"Then we will lay ground rules. I can't get into your room, so you should not enter mine."

"But how are we going to get our things back?"

"I'll give them to you. If you manage to beat me."

"Alright then!"

"Second: we do not bring others into this. So no large mischiefs that can affect others."

"Deal."

"Third: your grades must not be on the level less than Acceptable. I have to watch your education, too. A single mark lower than that and I call this off. And no pranks during my class, too. It is a whole separate area."

"That's good."

"And the final condition: you have a semester. Should it end, and I do not get properly pranked once, my victory is assured."

"It's all good."

He gave them one whole semester for a single prank. How hard could it honestly be?

As they went to the class, having locked the door behind him, Danny was smirking all the way. If that's what it took to make them study properly, he would play along with their little game. The game that he had never lost.

-Linebreak-

"No, no, no. Stop!"

Crabbe followed Harry's order, begrudgingly lowering his wand.

The DADA classroom was specifically prepared for practical preparation, right after the lessons were over. Fenton had moved almost all the desks, apart from his own in the far end, to a single corner, leaving space for the students and their spell-casting. He had also brought the necessary books from the library, in case the children needed some material. Also, there were pillows to soften the fall and to sit on. The professor chose not to interfere in the process, too busy with checking the test from a couple of days ago. However, he did occasionally look up and observed the progress. From time to time he got up and checked up on how the students fared. He also made sure to prevent any hostilities between the rivalling houses. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were also getting caught in the middle sometimes, but Fenton tried to keep the studying civil. At the moment Harry could see the professor questioning Ron on what exactly Goyle was doing wrong, after having stopped them himself.

Umbridge had voiced her utter displeasure about this, too. Namely, the rumours said that she went to complain to Dumbledore. The Headmaster only told her that the young man had his permission all along. It was also obvious that Umbridge had submitted a report to Fudge. But, since she was nowhere to be seen at the time, Harry guessed that the professor had solved that problem, too. Perhaps it also had something to do with her having to observe other teachers, too. And since some proper classes were still going, the time was perfect for practice. Without that pink toad interfering in the process, for which Harry was thankful. And from the jolly expression the professor had, he guessed that Fenton was happy about the arrangement as well.

"Crabbe, don't flail the wand so hard," Harry told the teen who was much larger than him. "Your movement needs to be smoother."

"I won't have time," the boy argued.

"You can do both," Fenton suddenly emerged near them. "Sorry for interrupting you two, but I have a question. Mr. Crabbe, do you know where your friend is? I haven't seen Malfoy today."

"He said he won't be coming," the Slytherin answered.

"I'm sure he has a good reason," said the professor with surprisingly menacing undertone. "Because Longbottom is right there," he pointed at lonely Neville, who was sitting on a couple of pillows, hastily reading a book.

Crabbe seemed hesitant to answer, so Harry took the lead. "Draco mentioned that he doesn't want to help Neville, sir."

No matter how hard the Gryffindor teen had tried, Malfoy was as stubborn as a mule.

"Does he now?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "Well then, could you tell your housemate to come visit my office after dinner?"

"I will, sir," Crabbe mumbled an answer.

Harry couldn't help a smirk on his face. He couldn't remember Malfoy getting reprimanded for a long time. Him being turned into a weasel last year notwithstanding. Surprisingly, however, Fenton gave him a non-amused look as well, but did not say anything. The professor didn't like the fact that Harry and the gang had been proven right this time.

"Well, carry on," he pulled a small smile on his face, "I think we will be calling it a day in an hour. You are free to leave when you want, of course. It's not a lesson."

Having said that, the professor left to talk with Neville. The shy boy looked up once the man approached.

"P-Professor! I'm..."

"Have you been reading the material?" Asked Danny with a smile.

"Yes," the boy nodded quickly.

"Come now, let's see what you have learned so far," the professor patted him on the shoulder and helped him up. "Wand at the ready, Longbottom."

The students gave them plenty of attention, curious to see Fenton directly help the poor Gryffindor. However, they had their own homework. Harry diverted his eyes from the professor only to see that Crabbe was nowhere to be found. The guy had actually tailed. His fists balling, Harry took a deep sigh.

"Bloody hell, they are unbelievable," Ron muttered as he approached him.

"What, Goyle decided to get away, too?"

"Yeah. Guess they decided to call it a day already, the gits. How are we supposed to teach them anything, Harry? They don't need it, and they are used to being the worst in their classes."

"I don't know," Harry admitted, seeing Hermione approach them. "Hey, Hermione, how is it going?"

"Parkinson left," she sighed, looking almost relieved. "One word that she is close to learning it and she just leaves. Maybe we will be done by next time."

The girl then looked at their professor, who held Neville's wand arm and slowly moved it to show the wand motions.

"I feel sorry for him," declared Hermione. "His first home assignment and it is already crumbling."

"Come on, Hermione. We all knew this decision was stupid," Ron argued. "And we got the worst of them all."

"We got them because we knew the material better than most," she explained. "He would have to do everything himself like he does with Neville."

"Or he just dumps even more gits on us," grumbled Ron. "Maybe there is a lesson for him, too. The snakes are the worst."

"We just got the worst of them all. Look, Zabini is actually helping Lee Jordan out."

"He still doesn't look happy with that."

"I never said that Zabini is a nice person. Quite the opposite," Hermione muttered. "Still, Fenton went through all this so we could grasp the concepts better. Least we can do is bear with it and try something. At least our conscience will be clear."

Her friends couldn't argue with that logic. Harry just hoped that Malfoy would get a good, fruitful thrashing.