[Harry Potter] Malfoid Stories

[digcat]

"I-I DIDN'T LIKE IT OR ANYTHING! I DON'T WANT HIM TO SPANK ME AGAIN!"

Click to shrink...

She's probably going to have him do that regularly.

 

[Chermo]

She's probably going to have him do that regularly.

Click to shrink...

Harry: are you going to behave now?

Lyra: if I say yes would you spank me again?

Harry: nope

Lyra: then no! How dare you?!

Harry: someone wants another lesson?

Lyra: maybe

 

[Naming Wrongs]

Harry: are you going to behave now?

Lyra: if I say yes would you spank me again?

Harry: nope

Lyra: then no! How dare you?!

Harry: someone wants another lesson?

Lyra: maybe

Click to shrink...

This is why it's important to determine what counts as reward and what as punishment. You don't want to be giving rewards for bad behavior.

 

[digcat]

Harry teaches Lyra baseball using dobby as the ball.

 

[NumberSix]

I think we need a NSFW thread, too.
And more recs.

Also nice story from the OP.

 

[Cyclone]

So, I've been seeing floating around stuff with Malfoid doing a Roshidere/Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian thing, where she admits her feelings in Parseltongue, not knowing Harry is a Parselmouth. As amusing as it is, it has two serious problems, the first being that Malfoy isn't a Parselmouth, and the second being that it is publicly known that Harry is.

However, I would posit that a sufficient divergence during the events of Chamber of Secrets could resolve both these issues. For the latter point, what made Harry's status as a Parselmouth public knowledge is Malfoy casting Serpentsortia during their Dueling Club duel. It wouldn't be farfetched at all to have Malfoid... not cast that spell. Her not being a Parselmouth is somewhat trickier, but can be resolved by having her get her hands on Riddle's diary and almost possessed by him. As I have noted previously, this would be a good catalyst to begin Lucius's character arc, and it seems plausible for the Parselmouth ability to transfer from Riddle to her if she is almost possessed.

Thoughts?

 

[AJ_Talon]

In the library, Hermione was bent over her notes after classes, quill moving in quick, precise strokes, one foot tapping under the table in a steady rhythm. Ron appeared at the end of the aisle, hesitated, then drifted closer. She rolled her eyes without looking up.

"No Daphne?"

"She's got a club meeting." He shifted his weight. "Can… can I sit with you?"

She sighed through her nose. "Yes."

He sat, scooted the chair in, then scooted it back a fraction as if he had changed his mind about the distance. "…So. Still mad—?"

"Not mad."

"Right. Stupid question." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… um. Charms homework? We did work on the Point Me charm. That might be useful for Harry?"

She tapped her quill once against the parchment. "…Sure. Let's learn it and teach it to him."

Ron's shoulders dropped. "Yeah, yeah! Then we can teach Harry, and Lyra, and Daph—"

Her head came up. The scowl was immediate. He coughed into his fist.

"Ah. I mean, yeah."

Pansy dropped into the chair across from them with a soft thump, looking exhausted. She pushed her hair back with one hand. "Geez. Granger? Give me your notes for Charms."

"What?! Why should I?!"

"Because I've been running the rumor mill all day trying to make it so that Potter doesn't look like he entered himself into the Triwizard for glory, so you owe me. I mean, people think you could fool the bloody thing. You."

Hermione's foot stopped tapping. "Why couldn't I fool it?!"

"Compare yourself to Dumbledore and ask that."

Ron leaned in, elbows on the table. "Hermione, please? Just hand them over? I'll—I'll do your chores!"

"I don't have any chores you can do."

"Damn. Always works back home with Ginny…"

Her glare sharpened. He winced and pressed his palms together, half-prayer, half-plea.

"I'll get Os in Charms. Promise. I'll follow your study plan and not complain. Really."

She held the look a moment longer, then sighed and slid the notes across. Pansy took them with a muttered "Thanks" and began copying at speed, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth as she waved her wand over the parchment. Hermione stared in shock.

"What charm is that?" Hermione asked.

"The Copy and Paste. My father does a lot of accounting. Saves loads of time." Pansy hesitated, wand paused, then added, "I can teach you it in return and we'll be square?"

Hermione's mouth twitched. "…Pansy? I take back most of the bad things I've ever said about you."

"What things?"

"Exactly. Teach me the spell and I take almost all of it back."

Pansy shook her head and wrote the instructions on a spare scrap of parchment. She handed it over. Hermione's grin was immediate and slightly alarming.

"Eesh," Pansy muttered, leaning back. "That's a scary look on her face."

"Not the scariest," Ron said under his breath.

"But in any event… hopefully Potter and Lyra won't have to go through a lot of bollocks. Well, any more than necessary." Pansy groaned and slumped lower in the chair. "I don't even know why I'm doing it. She's so… ugh."

"What do you mean?" Hermione leaned in, interested despite herself.

"I mean, she's your friend," Ron said. "Aren't you happy she's happy?"

"She's so obnoxiously happy. Singing to herself, and writing 'Mrs Lyra Potter' in her books."

"Ugh." Hermione made a face. "I know exactly what you mean. I'm glad Harry is happy, but that smile of his when he thinks no one is looking? It's… weird. And he barely broods anymore, even with all this. He barks orders and acts commanding."

"I mean, you're supposed to be the bossy, nagging one."

"Exactly. That's my whole thing."

Ron looked between them, then rubbed the back of his neck again. "…Did… did you two just become friends?"

Both of them went red.

"No!" Hermione said, too quickly.

"G-go snog Daphne for a while, Weasley!" Pansy snapped, ears pink.

"Eesh. Sorry I asked," Ron muttered.

Ron gathered the notes—Hermione had mastered the Copy and Paste charm with insulting ease—and headed for the library doors, stewing as he went. He did like Hermione. But Daphne… Daphne he deeply cared for. She was fun. She was caring. Conversations with her did not automatically turn into arguments.

And yet he did kind of like the arguments with Hermione. Ugh. He couldn't love two girls. He wasn't his ancestor Charlus Weasley with three wives. One already sounded exhausting.

He turned a corner and bumped into someone solid.

"Oh, sorry—"

"No, my fault—"

Ron looked up. Viktor Krum looked back.

"Y-you're Viktor Krum!"

Krum's smile was small. "Yes. You are… Harry Potter's friend?"

"Y-yeah! Yeah, heh, small, small world!"

The laugh came out awkward and strange. Krum's smile stayed polite in the way of someone who had met a great many desperate fans. Ron was not desperate. He only had one Krum action figure, thank you very much. Seamus had the full Team Ireland set and they just argued and fought and planted firecrackers all over for some reason.

"Erm… I am… how you say… not so good with English. The librarian is out. Would you help me find some… books?"

"I…" Ron paused. He glanced back toward the table where Hermione and Pansy were already arguing again. If he had been using the Lightbulb Thought Charm, one would have appeared over his head glowing like the sun.

"I can help… but Hermione over there is a lot better. She's also Harry's friend. Come on!"

He guided the bemused Quidditch star back to the table. Pansy's jaw dropped. Hermione looked up with mild surprise.

"Hey, Hermione. Krum—"

"Viktor, please."

Ron held in a fanboy squeal by force of will.

"Viktor here needs some help finding books. His English isn't the best, not that we hold that against him! Think you could help him out? You're the cleverest witch around, after all!"

It was bare-faced buttering her up. She might not appreciate it nearly as much as he hoped-He was the Quidditch fanatic and she barely tolerated the sport. But Ron knew Hermione: she had all the instincts of a librarian and a teacher combined. And a need to help while also showing off.

She smiled politely.

"I would be happy to!"

"Ah, good." Viktor sat. "I was concerned. You are friends of Harry's and he is competitor—"

"He didn't even want to be in the Tournament, really!" Ron continued, "He's gonna do his best but he's all fair and square! Just like the rest of us, Hermione especially!"

Viktor sat beside Hermione. Ron took the other side. He smiled.

"So… what do you say? Help us out?"

Hermione was trying not to smile. It was a better look on her than anger, any day.

"Well, in the interest of international relations, I would be more than happy to."

Pansy sighed. "Always have to make it so pretentious."

"I'm being polite, Pansy. Try it yourself, you might like it."

"Me?!"

They were arguing again within seconds. Viktor turned to Ron, questioning.

"They… friends?"

"Yeah, but they'd never admit it."

"Ah. Means they are real friends when they are girls."

"Oh, your country too, huh?"

---

Fawkes preened himself on his perch in the Headmaster's office, unbothered. His master Dumbledore paced in stark contrast nearby, his every wrinkle tense in worry and concentration. Moody stood near the desk, leaning on his cane, expression grave. But then, it almost always was.

"Not a trace of who used the magic to Confound the Goblet," Dumbledore said. "The wards don't record any disturbances. Even the extra protections we added did nothing."

Moody grunted. "Hell of a problem, Albus."

"Indeed. Any theories?"

Moody rested both hands on the cane and considered. "A few. An Imperio'd house-elf is keyed into the wards. Could get through, put the name in. The Confounding would require an actual spellcaster, already tied in."

"That's all the teachers."

"Aye. I've questioned everyone. None says they were near the Goblet at the time. All have alibis backed up by eyewitness testimony."

"So… Someone else, or someone is lying," Dumbledore considered.

"Snape?" Moody growled the name. Dumbledore shook his head.

"I know Severus. He wouldn't do this."

"His past—"

"Is his past, Alastor. But I know him. And so do you."

"Hrmph. I trust you, Albus… to a point. But if he was able to fool You-Know-Who… who's to say he couldn't fool you, too?"

Dumbledore paused. He let out a long sigh.

"This is something I have considered, Alastor. But unless there's any actual proof?"

Moody grumbled. "Not yet. But a former Death Eater is always the prime suspect, Albus. You can't expect me not to be thorough. I also investigated Karkaroff."

"Appreciated. But Karkaroff has tried to rebuild his life and disown the Dark Lord entirely. We also know his whereabouts. Ruling him and Severus out…"

"Then someone else keyed themselves into the wards. Or someone isn't who they say they are."

"…Polyjuice?"

"Possible." Moody sipped from his flask. "It would be complicated to maintain the supply, though. The ingredients aren't cheap. But it would also require a wizard or witch who could successfully fool everyone, and the wards of the castle. That's a very, very short list. And the ones who could do it are either dead, 'former' Death Eaters," he said that with a sneer, "or in Azkaban."

"I trust you checked that out?"

"You know me, Albus. The warden's a friend of mine. They checked everyone for Polyjuice, glamours, even Animagi—three times. They found nothing."

Dumbledore frowned. "Imperio?"

"Also possible. But the eyewitness statements would contradict that as well." Moody hummed. "There's also motive to consider."

"Yes. The most obvious is to try and kill Harry during the Tournament."

"Which is what I'm operating under."

"However…" Dumbledore's frown deepened. "It doesn't seem like Tom's modus operandi. Harry defeated him, broke his entire power base, reduced him to less than a ghost. If anything, he would want to personally inflict harm on Harry. Take his revenge." He sat in his chair and sighed. "Ego is a chief driver of everything he does."

"True. But he might not be able to do much more than arrange pieces on the board. As you said, he's reduced to next to nothing. No allies who would come directly to his aid… but one."

Dumbledore's expression turned grim. "Pettigrew."

"He hid as a rat for thirteen years. He knows secrets about Hogwarts nobody else does. And he has nowhere else to go but back to his master. If he was that good… it's possible he got in and did this on behalf of Riddle."

"Still… arranging the pieces on the board rather than directly…"

Moody shrugged. "He'd still be showcasing his power, the ability to get at Potter even when so weakened. And you can be sure he would have his agent or agents arrange things."

"Agents?"

"If we're crossing off Snape and Karkaroff, there's also Malfoy. He's been in and out, and he was behind the chamber incident. With his connections in the Ministry, there's a lot he could do to ensure Potter dies in the Tournament." Moody's frown deepened. "Even use his daughter."

Dumbledore was silent and thoughtful for a moment before he answered.

"…Lucius is many things. But I saw the man after it was discovered it was a basilisk. He was horrified at it, at the thought of losing his daughter. And the romance between Harry and Lyra is… too organic for Lucius to have pushed it. The man's reactions to it were too natural, too true to be staged." Dumbledore hummed. "Lucius will do things to gain Tom's favor, we know this. But he would not risk harm to his daughter."

"Hrmph. Maybe he's better at concealing things than you know."

"…Also possible. But until we have more evidence, we're still stuck with job one."

Moody nodded. "Keeping Potter safe. I'll handle it."

"I know you will, Alastor. That said… it is entirely possible Tom did curse the DADA position. So watch yourself as well."

Moody's grin was dark. "I always do."

He turned and headed out. The door shut behind him. Dumbledore remained at the window, studying the stars, frowning deeply in thought.

 

[Finsdale]

Damn that Oscar or BAFTA worthy acting from crouch junior, pulling off Moody like that.

 

[AJ_Talon]

In the Slytherin common room the fire burned low and the lake pressed dark against the high windows. Homework was spread across the low table. Around them the usual evening noise continued—low conversations, the occasional scrape of a chair, someone laughing near the far hearth.

"Ugh." Pansy slumped back. "You owe me so much for this day and the next several days. Probably the entire term."

"You have done well, Pansy. But hopefully Skeeter's article will help smooth things over a bit."

"Did you have to threaten her with death this time?" Tracey asked.

"Mmm. No. You need to build up to these things or the threats lose their effectiveness."

"I dunno. Every time you threaten me you're still dead scary."

"Well, I usually keep it silent. That can be quite effective, just the implication."

Tracey muttered to Daphne, "And her 'I'm going to hex you to pieces' look."

Daphne nodded.

"What was that?" Lyra asked.

"Oh, nothing!" Tracey said cheerfully.

Lyra turned. "Are you all right, Daphne?"

"Ron has not pledged his undying love for me. Am I perhaps doing something wrong?"

"You just started dating," Millicent said. "Seriously, slow down."

"True, but there's also Granger. He seems torn between us." Daphne rubbed her chin. "I could have her eliminated… but he would be unhappy. And honestly, I do rather like her."

"Seriously?!" Pansy said.

"You like her?" Millicent asked.

"I measure myself by my foes and she is formidable. She has some kind of hold over his heart due to fighting for their lives and the school on a number of occasions. That kind of bond is difficult to compete with. Hmmm." Daphne looked thoughtful. "In which case, perhaps I need to fight alongside Ron against mortal peril. That way we're at least on the same level."

Much staring followed. Tracey, who was used to this, simply went back to her homework.

"Your sense of humor gets more and more disturbing," Pansy said, deadpan.

"Who says I was joking?"

Millicent sighed, a bit enviously. "Still… having a boyfriend who had slain monsters or braved dangers… I envy you two."

Lyra's expression went smug, then softened. "I'm sure there's a formidable wizard for you, Millicent."

Pansy and Tracey stared. Millicent actually flushed.

"…You're not being sarcastic?" Pansy asked.

"Why would I? A true queen uplifts her handmaidens, does she not? So we can destroy all who oppose us. And it's true. Daphne and I have found… exceptional wizards, only the best. Well, the best and Weasley, I suppose."

"I see them as equally important," Daphne said. "Hero and loyal lancer. Arthur needed Merlin. Slytherin needed Gryffindor."

Lyra sighed. "I bow to your superior wisdom in this case, Daphne. And… let's be honest. Slytherin hasn't exactly been impressing with the wizards in our year."

Theodore Nott approached with Pike and Bletchley. The low murmur of the common room thinned as people noticed. Lyra sighed.

"Case in point…"

Theodore stepped in front of her and leaned in, one hand braced on the top of her chair. The remaining conversation nearby stopped.

"Seriously, Lyra, haven't you played with Potter's heart long enough?"

She regarded him, unimpressed. "You keep holding to this delusion that you somehow have a claim to me?"

"Our fathers allied our houses. My father said that that means we'll be married one day."

"Then you're as foolish as your father. I've made my choice."

He snorted. "And what do you think will happen to your little boyfriend when the Dark Lord returns?"

Lyra was silent. The room had gone properly quiet now.

Theodore smirked and looked around. "What do you think will happen to all of you traitors to your house, when he comes back? You'd think you'd start cozying up to the right people…" He reached out to try and touch Lyra's cheek. "Maybe I'll put in a good word for you if you—"

Millicent grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard. He yelped as he put him into a lock. Crabbe and Goyle came up from behind Pike and Bletchley, who went pale as the two larger wizards brandished their fists. Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne drew their wands. The silence held.

Millicent pulled Nott back a step. Lyra rose slowly, glaring death into his eyes. Her voice was low and deadly.

"If you even think of touching me again, Nott… I'll make sure you'll never be able to use your hands again. Is that understood?"

He grit his teeth. "You—gah!" Millicent twisted his arm behind his back. Pike and Bletchly thought about moving to help, saw Crabbe and Goyle scowl, and thought better of it.

Lyra narrowed her eyes to thin slits.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"…Y-yes!"

Lyra leaned down and held a hand to her ear. "Hm?"

"Y-yes! Yes, I understand!"

"Good." She nodded. Millicent let him go. He rubbed his wrist and slunk off. Crabbe and Goyle glared until Pike and Bletchley followed, only loosely, as though unsure of their allegiance.

Conversation began to return around them, cautious at first, then ordinary. Lyra turned to her physically strongest minions and nodded.

"…Thank you, Millicent, Crabbe, Goyle."

"…We'll always have your back, Lyra," Goyle said.

"I mean, we're never gonna follow that prat, are we?" Crabbe added.

Goyle shifted. "So, uh… Lyra? Think you could… help us with some girls too?"

"If… if you could?" Crabbe said.

Lyra smirked a bit.

"I shall consider it."

The two boys grinned. Millicent scoffed.

"What, you're already looking outside your House?"

"Well, maybe," Crabbe admitted.

"Why're you so upset, Millie?" Goyle asked. Millie flushed.

"I'm not!"

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Look what you've done, Lyra, Daphne."

"Love is in the air," Daphne said sagely.

"So that's what that smell is!" Tracey laughed.

Lyra sat again and reached for her quill, but her gaze drifted as her friends and allies bickered. She looked out into the Black Lake, an endless dark abyss lit only by lantern fish and the distant magical lights of the merfolk.

She tried not to consider it, but it had been hanging in the back of her mind from the moment Harry had asked her out:

What would happen to her if the Dark Lord returned?

What would happen to her family?

What would happen to Harry?

She felt warm, happy that he had finally seen her as a woman, that he cared for her. But if the Dark Lord returned…

She shivered.

He might never come back. The thought was treasonous to everything she had been raised with. It filled her with hope. A dangerous hope.

And if he never came back, she and Harry…

But what if he did?

"Lyra?" Pansy asked. "You all right?"

"…I'm fine, Pansy. Just fine."

She lowered her eyes to the parchment in front of her and did not look at the lake again.

---

In the fourth-year Gryffindor boys' dorm, Harry was about to nod off to sleep when he heard a low vibration from his trunk. He reached through the curtains, rummaged, and found the mirror Sirius had given him. It buzzed against his palm. He nearly tapped it with his wand, then stopped.

He shook his head, pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and his slippers, and slipped out. Ron's snoring followed him until the door closed. He made his way down through the common room, out through the portrait portal, and into the empty classroom he had used before. Only after he had cast Colloportus and Silencio on the door did he tap the glass twice.

Sirius's face appeared.

"Hey, Harry. You secured the room?"

"Definitely."

"Heh. Moody's been rubbing off on you, huh? I was afraid you might answer immediately in your dorm."

Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Heh, well, you know. Constant vigilance! So what happened?"

Sirius made a face. "Remus is dealing with a werewolf inspector. They come from the Ministry to make sure he's in a secure place for his transformations. It's pretty horrible, and having a convicted felon in his home isn't exactly going to help his case."

Harry frowned. "Is he in trouble?"

"Dumbledore's made them lay off a time or two. He'll be fine. I also had to hide his money. The 'werewolf inspectors' can get handsy."

"Geez… it's so horrible."

"Yeah. But Remus will be all right. Let's talk about you. The Tournament."

Harry winced and explained. Sirius listened, nodding now and then, asking a quiet question when something needed clarifying, and otherwise let him talk until he was finished.

"I know you'd never put yourself in on purpose. Not that you could, no offense."

"No, no, I get it," Harry sighed. Sirius grinned.

"Hey, don't worry. Moony and I are putting together a training program. Plenty of useful spells and tactics. You're gonna be just fine, no matter what they throw at you. How's the public reaction?"

Harry winced. Sirius made a sympathetic noise.

"That bad, huh?"

"A lot of students think I'm trying to steal Cedric's glory," Harry sighed, "Lyra's been running damage control. She even came with me when I did an interview with Rita Skeeter."

"Damn. How did that go?"

"Well, she made Rita write with one of her pens."

Sirius whistled. "Impressive. She knows how Rita operates. That's going to be a big help, Harry. Rita could make your life hell if she wasn't restrained."

"Yeah… yeah, Lyra's really…" Harry flushed. "She's… amazing."

"…And now you're feeling guilty over the prank."

"I… is it even a prank anymore?"

"Heh. Sometimes they work out in ways you never expect."

"I just… she drives me crazy, but she's… she actually might care about me."

"Well, that's women for you, Harry. That said… how do you feel about her back?"

Warmth filled Harry's chest. He flushed again. "Really… really good. I mean, most of the time."

"Well then. Never let her find out it was a prank, Harry."

"I… I mean, I feel guilty about it—"

"Try not to. Sometimes they work out perfectly. But if you're going to tell her? Only do it under one condition."

"What's that?"

"When you're married and have seven kids."

Harry choked. He went pale and bright red at the same time.

"You—surely you can't be serious!"

"I'm always Sirius. And don't call me Shirley."

Silence. Harry stared at his godfather.

"…How long have you waited to make that joke?"

Sirius grinned. "Far too long, Harry. Far, far too long."

 

[digcat]

Lyra "Harry did you hear what those shit throwing savages have been saying. We stopped them from burning women and made them take baths. How do they repay us by saying we put them in bolling water."

 

[AJ_Talon]

The next few weeks were quieter, but still intense. Rita Skeeter's article appeared, but Lyra had clearly made calls. The piece featured all four champions, Cedric included, and the tone was more measured than anyone had expected. The Hufflepuffs still grumbled, but Cedric had done his work, as had Pansy. The worst of the muttering faded, mostly.

That did not make the weeks smooth. Harry took to his training with Remus and Sirius with a will. Late at night, he practiced over and over with them advising him over the mirror. He shared what he learned with Ron and Hermione, but Hermione hesitated to bring Lyra in. Not that Lyra was sitting idle-She ran him through drills just as vigorously as Hermione did!

Moody intensified his classes too. He restarted the Dueling Club. The old classroom filled again on Thursday evenings, and the rules were simple and non-negotiable: constant vigilance, no showing off, and no one left the floor until they could block three different curses in a row without flinching.

Lyra partnered with Harry. It was nothing like their duel in second year.

"Rictusempra!"

"Protego!"

Lyra's shield formed green and solid as she stepped right. Harry's spell shattered it. She answered at once.

"Glisseo!"

Harry moved. The floor beneath him turned slick. He dropped to one knee, the Tarantallegra that followed missing him by inches.

"Titillando!"

Her second shield went up. Harry's curse punched through it. Lyra dissolved into helpless giggles. Moody huffed as he passed, flicked his wand, and ended the spell. She stopped, face burning.

"Hrmph. If it were up to me, you'd all be using real combat spells. That would make you take this seriously. Still, good on you, Potter. You're able to break low-level shield spells. That's a lot of power you're throwing around for your age."

Harry flushed. "Thanks, Professor."

Moody grumbled. "You two rest for a bit."

Lyra brushed at her robes, still pink, and did not quite meet Harry's eyes as they stepped off the floor near the wall. A few bottles of water floated nearby, provided by Moody, and they both took a drink and sipped them. He offered her a small, careful smile. She accepted it with a sniff and a tilt of her chin that did not entirely hide the fact that she was pleased.

"Much better," she whispered.

"Thanks," he yawned back. Lyra frowned immediately.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" She asked. Harry nodded.

"Oh, uh, yeah…"

Lyra scowled at him. Harry winced.

"I mean, I'm getting what I need."

"Harry," she said, nearly growling. He shook his head quickly.

"I'm fine. Really," he emphasized. Lyra didn't look convinced, and he wasn't convincing even to himself.

He had no idea what the Triwizard might hold. The only indication of what was to come were several wizards throwing up an arena elsewhere on the grounds. And Hermione and Daphne's research revealed many possible challenges, from countering a sphinx to having to ride a thunderbird through aerial obstacles. He didn't know where to focus, so he tried to prepare overall as best he could.

Still… He took her hand. Her hard gaze softened a little.

"But I'll do better, I promise," he said.

Lyra sniffed.

"You'd better. You're no good to me dead on your feet," she stated.

Harry smiled.

"All right! That's enough warm-ups, you lot. Eyes on me!"

Moody's voice cut across the classroom. The pairs broke apart. Wands lowered. Harry and Lyra stepped back to the edge of the floor with the others as Moody planted his staff and fixed the room with his mismatched stare.

"Now, shooting spells back and forth is all well and good… for formal duels." Moody's voice carried across the classroom, rough and unhurried, as torchlight flickered over scuffed stone. "Real fighting… there are no rules. No referee to call, and a Death Eater would kill them anyway. It's kill or be killed, and they're not gonna care about ending up in Azkaban with what they throw around. Which is why you need CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Even knowing it was coming, everyone jumped. Moody began to walk the length of the room, staff clunking against the floor in a steady, deliberate rhythm, his blue artificial eye spinning all about.

"But um, sir," tried a Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, "Shouldn't we leave this kind of thing to Aurors? I mean, most of us can't use Unforigivables even if we could and-!"

"I'm an Auror, lad!" Moody boomed, slamming his cane down and making everyone jump, "Wanna know how often I turned up at a house too late after an attack?" He sighed. "Too many bloody times. Not everyone's cut out to be an Auror… But the harder you make it to bring you down, the more of a chance everyone you and everyone you care about has to make it out alive." He eyes swept over the room.

"That said… There are lots of ways to take down an enemy without needing the Unforgivables. Ways to counter Dark wizards. You have to rely on your wits, your skill, and your courage. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Again, everyone jumped. Moody continued to stalk down the center of the room.

He stopped in front of Justin Finch-Fletchley. Justin straightened, shoulders tight. "Finch-Fletchley! You're Muggle-born!"

"Uh, yes, sir?"

"You ever see Die Hard?"

"Yes… wait. You've seen Die Hard—?"

"Of bloody course I've seen Die Hard! One of the best movies ever made, especially for Christmas! Now: if you were in that situation, give me a list of spells you know that you would use."

Justin's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "Uh, well, uh, I'd use Colloportus to close off doors so the terrorists couldn't move around as easily, Silencio to stay quiet… uh… maybe Lumos to blind them?"

"Not bad, not bad. Five points to Hufflepuff." Moody's staff tapped once. "Of course, spells aren't the only way to counter enemies. Longbottom! I was once fighting a gang of Dark wizards in the Venice waterways. What's a magical plant that could help me there?"

Neville, who had been practicing with Pansy, screwed up his face. His fingers twitched at his sides. "Oh! Uh, Gillyweed! You can find it around Venice. Eat it and you get gills and flippers and can breathe underwater!"

"Good lad, good. Five points to Gryffindor. That's just what I did… and none of them survived."

A low murmur moved through the class. Harry stood very still, watching. The way Moody spoke—flat, certain, almost conversational about the deaths—was nearly hypnotizing.

"And of course, even mundane things can counter magic. Granger!"

Hermione jumped. "Yes, Professor?!"

"How'd you keep from getting killed by that basilisk two years ago?"

"I—I peeked around corners with a pocket mirror!"

"Good! Five points to Gryffindor! That'll change getting killed to getting petrified." Moody's eye swiveled. "And of course… Weasley!"

Ron straightened so fast his wand nearly slipped. "Ah! Yes, sir?!"

"You're a big strong lad. And you've got a strong Shield Charm. Greengrass is about a head shorter than you. You're gonna close the distance with her and grab her wand before she breaks your shield. Greengrass! Try to Leg-Lock him, that's your best jinx!"

"But—!"

"Go!"

Daphne's spell flew, precise and fast. Ron charged, wand up, ears already red.

"Protego!"

His shield absorbed the first jinx and shattered on the second with a sharp crack. Momentum carried him forward. He tackled her. They hit the floor hard enough to draw a collective wince. Their lips met.

The classroom went dead silent. Then the giggles started—scattered at first, then widespread. Hermione's hair bushed out like a furious cat's. Her hands clenched at her sides.

Ron pulled back, face as red as his hair. "Ah, um, I—I'm sorry, Daphne, I didn't mean—!"

Daphne smiled, demure, cheeks pink, and did not immediately push him off. "Please be gentle, Ron. It's my first time."

More giggling. Ron stared. Moody rolled his eyes—the blue one spun a full circle—but a wry smirk tugged at his mouth.

"Heh. Not bad, Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor. But if you're gonna kiss a Dark witch into submission, don't let up. Finish what you start."

"I—uh—um—!" Ron rolled off her in a scramble, still bright red, unable to hide a small, helpless grin. Daphne's answering grin was smaller and far more composed. Justin glanced at Hermione with increasing concern as she glared hot death at the pair.

"But, sir…" Nott's voice was thin. He had taken half a step back without seeming to notice. "Fighting other wizards with your fists… isn't it barbaric—?"

"Fighting is always barbaric, Nott! That's why it's called fighting! You think some Dark wizard's gonna play nice? Be fair? No! They want your life, they want to destroy you! Your family! Your home! So you'd better be ready to destroy them back first!"

He glared. Nott gulped and looked at the floor. Moody turned to Harry.

"And of course… there are spells designed to counter one enemy… but are powerful enough to do lots of things, if you put a little thought into it. Potter!"

Harry straightened, wand already in hand. "Yes, sir?!"

"You can do the Patronus Charm, that right?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You use it for anything other than Dementors?"

"Er… no…"

"Well, it's time you did. Malfoy! Stand with Potter, you don't wanna get in the way!"

Lyra moved to his side without comment, chin lifted, one hand resting lightly on her wand. The rest of the class watched, quiet again except for the low crackle of the torches, as Moody planted his staff and fixed them both with his mismatched stare.

Moody waved his wand. A mannequin appeared in the center of the floor—dusty black robes, a white featureless head, a mean scowl, and reptilian eyes that were slightly crossed. Harry bit back a snort. Lyra's hand tightened on his sleeve. Around them, several students gasped.

It was a dummy Voldemort. Moody nodded, satisfied.

"Now. Summon up a Patronus. Strong as you can. Make sure you're happy enough, lad… and have it run that bastard down."

Harry licked his lips. He glanced at Lyra. She looked nervous, almost scared—whether at the facsimile or at the thought of anyone seeing her reaction, he couldn't tell. Still. He knew how to make a happy thought. And he wanted to impress her.

He leaned in. He tilted her chin up with two fingers. Her silver eyes widened. Her mouth parted. He kissed her.

Warmth moved between them like current. Her grip on his forearm tightened. He pulled back, turned to the dummy, and raised his wand with a wide grin.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs burst into being—a gigantic white stag of pure light, antlers grazing the ceiling. The glow was so bright most of the class covered their eyes. Harry winced against it and focused.

Charge.

Prongs lowered its head and lunged. The dummy shattered under the impact. The stag kept going, hooves smashing what remained until only debris littered the floor.

"Heheh… very good, Potter. Now, have it pick up something leftover," Moody ordered.

Harry thought it. Prongs bent, took a piece of the dummy in its teeth, and lifted it. Harry's grin widened.

"Good, good, Potter. Very good. Twenty points to Gryffindor… And Slytherin, for inspiring that, Malfoy. Now, turn it off, Potter!"

Harry dismissed the spell. Prongs faded like dust in a draft. He turned to Lyra. She was bright red, eyes wide, a small, shy smile on her mouth.

He rather liked that look on her.

"Just goes to show you," Moody continued to the class at large. "It's not the spells you know, it's how you use them. And many of them are made more powerful with emotion. If you know spells that are stronger thanks to feeling, use it. The important thing is… figure out how you can stay alive. So! Get back to practicing! On the count of three! One! Two!"

Hermione turned to Justin. He smiled nervously at her still-furious expression and cast Protego almost silently.

"Ahhh… Granger, I kind of have to go to the loo and—"

"Three!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Her spell tore through his shield and sent him flying.

"Gaaahhh!"

Justin hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, his wand flipping in the air three times before bouncing off his head and into Hermione's free hand. The class stared. Hermione stared in shock and embarrassment.

Moody's mouth twitched.

"Not bad, Granger. Five points. NEXT!"

 

[bazerkerking]

Hermione is a bit of a spell casting Berserker isn't she... firecracker girls are always a fun time