Three
The first morning of classes went surprisingly well, considering it started of with History of Magic followed by double Potions with Gryffindor. Tom had almost forgotten all his concern about Umbridge.
Until lunch, of course.
The seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors had Defence before lunch, which was evident as they trudged into the Great Hall.
Harry picked up on the thinly-veiled disdain at the same time as Tom did, and waved over the Weasley twins, who were passing by to sit further down the table.
"Umbridge?" Harry asked them.
"Merlin, bring a spare book to class with a charmed cover and obscuring charm," Fred said, "You'll fall asleep otherwise."
"She made us read the first chapter of that awful book in silence, then told us to make notes," George continued.
"Also in silence," Fred added, "There's no practical teaching this year. Only theoretical. Fucking nightmare."
"No way anyone's going to be passing exams like this," Cassius Warrington added darkly, stopping beside the twins, "She implied Alicia Spinnet from Gryffindor was a slut because she was sitting in a row with William Choi, Kenneth Towler and Michael Karume."
"What?" Daphne hissed.
"Oh, yeah, asked her if she was sure that was appropriate company to keep. Said she could be a distraction during the lessons," Lee Jordan said, appearing between the Weasley twins.
"Do not fear, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are back in action this year," Fred said, with a theatrical bow.
"We'll either drive her mental or have half the castle pulling a sickie on Defence soon enough. Either works," George added.
Warrington shook his head, somewhat fondly, "Quiet, both of you. I can't be seen encouraging that. When do the fifth years have Defence?"
"End of the day," Tom replied, "Arithmancy next."
"Merlin, that's brutal," Lee said, "Keep each other awake with stinging hexes if you can do it wandlessly."
"Wands are to be kept in holsters at all times," Fred said, in a crude mockery of Umbridge's voice, "If you do not have a holster, please leave your wand on my desk."
"I've never seen any muggleborns with a holster. She's being that obvious about putting them at a disadvantage this early?" Harry asked.
"Clearly so. Pass the word around some of your other friends, Harry. Holsters can arrive in a matter of days by owl order."
"Hold on," Warrington said, brow furrowing, "You think she has a vendetta against muggleborns?"
"She does have one, actually," Theo said, "Anyone who's suffered through conversation with her for a few minutes at a ball knows that."
"She thinks all muggleborns are mudbloods and refuses to hear otherwise. Though she also doesn't think that muggleborns should be taught anything about the Old Ways, so it's a self-fulfilling prophecy really," Abraxas added.
"Salazar," Warrington groaned, "I'll pass the word around the house."
"I never ever thought I'd find myself looking forward to Arithmancy," Harry said after the seventh years left, "But it's the lesser of two evils, isn't it?"
"I'll let Professor Vector know you think of her so highly," Tom replied.
•••
The Slytherins walked into the Defence classroom as if they were marching to their deaths. Which, at this point, may actually be preferable.
The tables in the classroom were divided into rows of four on both sides of the room, with empty space in the middle- presumably for Umbridge to roam.
Tom made a beeline for a desk at the edge of the second row, on the side of the classroom closest to the door, and Harry took the seat beside him. Theo and Felix filled up the other spaces left in the row. Daphne and Pansy took up the seats behind Harry and Tom, respectively, and Draco and Abraxas joined their row. In front of them sat Gabriel, Blaise, Reginald and Tracey. The final row of Slytherins, two rows behind Tom's own, was made up by Millicent, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pike.
They tended to have an arranged seating plan for themselves in every class. Tom and Harry always partnered up, and Theo was always on Harry's other side. Felix was never to sit in the front row of a class because his seer abilities, and occasional lapses into milky-eyed visions, were not to be drawn attention to. The Malfoy twins always paired up, because Abraxas could keep draco on track. The same went for Daphne and Pansy, as Pansy had a rather short attention span when she got bored. Gabriel, Blaise, Reginald and Tracey usually paired up with one another, and Millicent usually sat between Crabbe and Goyle because she was the best with helping them out when they struggled. Pike fit into whatever gap was left, as he had more interest in his Ravenclaw friends than his housemates- that's not to say he minded these arrangements or disliked his housemates, he just was a lot closer with the Ravenclaws.
The Gryffindors all but stumbled into the classroom a few minutes later, whispering and snickering amongst each other. When they were finally seated, Umbridge began the class with a note of distaste towards the Gryffindors.
"All right! We shall begin. I must ask you to be settled by the time class begins next time. I do not look favourably upon tardiness. Now, as I'm sure you're all more than familiar with, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in you all being far below the standard expected in your OWL year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year!"
"We aren't going to be taught how to perform spells?" Granger, a Gryffindor Harry was somehow friends with, called out.
"Please raise your hand before speaking," Umbridge said, ignoring her.
Granger raised her hand, flushed with embarrassment.
"Ah! Yes, miss...?" Umbridge asked.
"Miss Hermione Granger, Professor. I was wondering if we are going to be taught how to perform spells for our OWLs, or just the theory."
"What situation could you possibly find yourself in at school where you'll need to know Defensive magic, hmm? The Ministry is confident that a thorough study of theory is more than sufficient to be able to cast any spell that will appear on your exams. Any more questions?"
Granger looked like she wanted to say something else, but Longbottom was giving her a surprisingly venomous look from beside her.
"No? Very good. Wands will remain in your holsters for every class."
Weasley raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr...?"
"Ronald Weasley. What do we do if we don't have a holster?"
Umbridge pretended to look shocked, "Why, every good wizard has a holster! How unusual, Mr Weasley, I believe your brothers both had holsters earlier on today."
Weasley flushed at the dig.
"If you do not have a holster," Umbridge continued, "Please leave your wand on my desk. You will retrieve it at the end of the lesson. This will be the procedure in all future classes. Now, I would dare hope that you all have acquired a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Slinkhard, yes? Please open chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners'. You will be making notes of this chapter today. In silence."
Tom hadn't looked at this book once since he bought it. As he opened the book to chapter one, he regretted spending five galleons to buy it at all.
'The study of Defensive magic has been ingrained into the British magical education system since Hogwarts first opened its doors. Children as young as eleven are forced to use potentially dangerous magics without truly understanding the risks to themselves and others. A change must be made to this flawed system for the benefit of future society.
In this chapter, we shall introduce some key concepts- vital to the proper education of Defence:
Conflict avoidance, magical theory, and the importance of the under-looked 'Flight' aspect of the term 'Fight or Flight'.
Merlin's fucking beard, this was boring.
Beside Tom, Harry's knuckles were white on his quill as he wrote down the class and date at the top of a sheet of parchment. Tom watched out of the corner of his eye as Harry took a deliberately long time to write the chapter title in his best handwriting, adding unnecessary flourishes as he went. Tom almost smiled, it was a good strategy.
Keeping Harry's plan of action in mind, Tom began to make his own notes.
All was silent, for what felt like forever, as Umbridge prowled around the classroom- lingering at every single row.
She cleared her throat with a fake-sounding 'hem-hem' at the Gryffindor half, drawing the attention of the class.
"Mr Weasley, may I ask why you have yet to begin taking any notes? It has been forty-five minutes since this class began, and you are yet to turn a page."
Weasley flushed red, matching his hair, "I'm a slow reader, Professor."
Beside tom, Harry mumbled something that sounded awfully like 'Merlin's fucking balls you idiot'.
"Ah, but you haven't been reading at all, Mr Weasley. You have been watching Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom take notes. Detention with me tonight at seven o'clock."
"What?" Granger gasped, "But that's not-"
"As I have already said, Miss Granger," Umbridge interrupted, "Do not speak without raising your hand, unless you wish to join Mr Weasley in detention."
Harry almost snapped his quill. Tom put a hand softly on his leg, definitely just to get him to focus back on him and not for any silly reasons like wanting to touch Harry. Harry snapped back to Tom, evidently still seething.
"Don't," Tom hissed softly, in the serpentine language only they shared, "Remember Felix's warnings."
"I just- I cannot believe they're being so stupid," Harry hissed back.
"It's their own fault. Weasley could at least be turning the pages as he slacks off, and Granger could lose some of her self-righteous indignation."
"You just don't like them."
"That's irrelevant. Get back to work before she notices."
Harry glared at him, but went back to the painstaking process of making notes. Tom wasn't focusing on what he wrote at all. Hearing Harry speak Parseltongue always sent a shiver of delight right up his spine.
It was a bloodline gift, and they were the last two speakers in Britain. Tom Riddle, the final descendent of the Slytherin line, and Harry Potter-Black, the first to inherit the extinct Peverell line's Parseltongue ability in centuries. Harry would hopefully be taking up the Peverell Lordship at sixteen, on top of being Lord Potter when he turned seventeen and Heir Black, if he also inherited the Peverell abilities. The knowledge of the family gift had died out a few generations after the last Peverell married into the Potters, but the Goblins remembered. They informed Harry, who then informed Tom. Necromancy. They were possibly the only two wizards alive to have that knowledge, though Tom somehow didn't doubt that Dumbledore would know too. The old man had a habit of knowing things he shouldn't.
Tom mentally shook himself for going off track and focused back on his textbook.
'The possibility of resolving conflict without exchanging spells is increasingly rare. With the power that courses through our very bodies, we are often quick to throw hexes, jinxes, and curses at those we come into conflict with. But what if there was an easier way? One where no one got hurt?
Well, there is!
The concept of conflict avoidance has been tossed aside in favour of senseless violence. The easiest way to resolve these matters is to simply not allow conflict to escalate to such a degree where an opposing party may be inclined to point a wand at you. Discussing disagreements civilly, agreeing to disagree, and putting your differences aside in favour of peace are remarkably sensible tools to wield in conflict resolution. In cases where these don't work, finding a compromise is key- discussing the matter calmly and conceding some minor points to each other is sometimes necessary. Conflict Avoidance Theory will be discussed in more detail in the following chapters-
• Chapter Three: The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack
• Chapter Four: The Art of Civilised Discussion
• Chapter Thirty-Four: Non-Retaliation and Negotiation
Of course, there is always the worry that the party you have conflict with will resort to less than civil means, too enamoured with violence to listen to your calm reasoning. In such events, it is best to remain calm and cast the counter spells on yourself, before resuming peaceful negotiation. Potential spells, along with their descriptions, and counters will be explored in the following chapters-
• Chapter Fifteen: Jinxes and their Counters
• Chapter Sixteen: Hexes and their Counters
• Chapter Seventeen: Curses and their Counters
As a last resort, the wise wizard will always choose to flee to safety. There is no shame in removing yourself from a situation in which the other party is being profoundly unreasonable. This will be discussed in-
• Chapter Twenty-Three: Recognising the Signs of an Escalating Situation
• Chapter Twenty-Four: Fleeing with Dignity'
Tom wanted to slam his head off the fucking table and knock himself out, but that would merely just cause his classmates to doubt his sanity and earn him countless detentions.
Someone actually wrote this bollocks?
The class dragged on, and Tom got progressively more pissed off. He wanted to punch something, magic forgotten.
Two minutes before the end of class, Umbridge cleared her throat again.
"Now, class. I will allow you to pack away belongings and collect wands in a moment. I would like you all to make note of your homework- read chapters two to four and take notes for the next class. I will be assigning an essay on non-violent conflict resolution next week, and notes will aid you in its completion. Pack up please! Good day class!"
"Good day, Professor Umbridge," the Slytherins echoed.
•••
Tom all but stormed out of classroom 3C the moment they were dismissed, the other Slytherins following with wide eyes. Abraxas and Harry sped up to match Tom's pace, and the others stayed back. Tom ducked into a disused classroom, on the other side of the tower from their Defence classroom, and punched the stone wall as hard as he could. He felt the bones in his hand crunch, saw the blood running from his knuckles, but it still didn't feel like enough. He was still pissed off. Frowning at his hand, he readied himself to punch the stone again, when a familiar darker-skinned hand grabbed his wrist.
"Tom!" Harry exclaimed, "What the fuck are you doing?"
"What do you think?" Tom said, sarcastically, as he tried to free himself from Harry's grip on his wrist. Giving up, he tried to punch with his other hand- which Harry grabbed too.
"Tom!" Harry repeated.
Tom sighed and slumped down with his back against the wall as Harry guided him over to it. He screwed his eyes shut, and sat breathing in and out until the anger left him, grounded by Harry's hands in his.
He was ashamed when he opened his eyes, seeing their group of Slytherins watching him in concern- Harry, Abraxas, Theo, Draco, Pansy, Tracey, Felix, Blaise, Gabriel, Millicent, and Reginald.
"Sorry," Tom said, closing his eyes again and leaning his head back against the wall, "I haven't lost my temper in years, but something about that awful woman and- and that fucking textbook just set me off."
"We get it," Abraxas said softly, "We've all lost our tempers before at lesser things than that absolute torture."
The others echoed their agreement, and they began to rant about the class they had just came out of, cheering each other up until Tom didn't want the ground to swallow him whole out of sheer embarrassment. As they all chatted, Harry sat and healed Tom's hand. He knew he had broken his knuckles, busted them up too, and his wrist ached from the impact. Harry was a prodigy with self-taught healing, so Tom's hand was as good as new in a few minutes. Harry left his knuckles bruised at Tom's request.
"There! Good as new!" Harry said.
"Thank you," Tom said, almost too soft to be heard.
"Did Tom lost his temper often when you were growing up?" Blaise asked. Abraxas and Draco hit him with synchronised looks, and Blaise added, "I'm just asking! You guys never really talk about growing up."
"Tom had the worst temper- still does, but he manages it now. He was an absolute terror. All the other kids in the home left us alone by the time we were six because Tom scared them all off- even the older ones," Harry said fondly.
"I never once lost my temper at you, though," Tom said.
"No, never at me. Just at everyone else. One time Tom broke a boy called Billy's nose, and then bit the staff member who pulled him off him."
"Not my proudest moment," Tom added, rolling his eyes, "I stopped all that when I got a better hold on my accidental magic. I could get payback or make people leave us alone by doing strange things they couldn't explain instead. Harry was always really good at healing with sheer will, he'd pour over muggle medical books from the local public library and memorise everything he could."
"Yeah, when we entered the magical world I decided I want to be a healer, but a curse-breaker or Unspeakable would be cool too. Tom decided all his anger at the world would lend itself to politics very well."
"I wanted to become the muggle Prime Minister once, but the Minister for Magic would suit me better."
"It's still mad that you guys didn't grow up with magic," Theo said, after a short silence as everyone took in Tom and Harry's words, "You'd never be able to tell, you both know more than we do."
"Yeah, 'cos we bought every etiquette, tradition and history book we could afford when Snape took us to Diagon before first year and then absorbed everything in them before school started," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
"When we heard about the word 'mudblood' and how those people are perceived, we decided we'd do anything not to fall into that category. Keep in mind that I thought I was a muggleborn then, and Dumbledore didn't mention Harry's parents when he delivered our letters."
"What?" Draco gasped.
"They were Grindelwald sympathisers killed by stray spells in a duel in Diagon, Dumbledore didn't look upon them fondly," Harry said, shrugging, "Snape told me about them when he took us for lunch when we were getting our school supplies. He was my mum's best friend. He told me that Sirius had been wrongly imprisoned the day after they died under suspicion of being an Acolyte, but that he was getting a trial in a few months. Snape attended the trial, and made sure Sirius knew where I was the moment he was released. He adopted me, and the Ministry wouldn't let him take Tom too."
"Why not?" Tracey asked.
"As far as the Ministry viewed me, I was just another mudblood they didn't care about. I didn't meet the requirements to be taken in by anyone," Tom said, with distaste, "Now, they don't want to have me taken in by a Wizarding family because I'm Heir Gaunt-Slytherin, and they view me as a threat."
"Which they should," Felix chimed in, with that knowing smile.
"Ugh, don't fuel his ego," Harry said, playfully, "C'mon. I want to sit in the common room and mope about Defence."