The two men pawed around the room, searching it most thoroughly
and with great glee. Wardrobes and cabinets emptied themselves onto the
floor as the two waved their wands about with practiced ease. They were
not searching for anything in particular. It was merely a general mess
making to discover anything of interest and inform the resident of the
flat that they had been visited.
        It has been said that good help is hard to find. Fortunately for
their Lord, these two came as a matched set. From their hairy toes to
the ends of their long noses they were identical. They even wore
identical clothing. Both wore long black robes made of fine silk. Both
had expensive leather boots laced tight on their feet. Both wore what
appeared to be black snake skin jackets over their robes. On their
heads, each wore a black knit cap, covering their hair in a most
complete fashion. They made quite the imposing figure together.
        It was unfortunate for the resident of the flat in question that
these two most competent gentlemen were the ones searching. For it was
during their exhaustive and amazingly competent search that the two men
uncovered the resident's hiding place underneath the floorboards.
        "Oi! I smell a rat!" Though there was indeed a rat, it was
doubtful his scent was what gave him away, having just bathed two nights
ago.
        With a flick of his wand, the man flung the rat through a most
competently destroyed wall. The second man whirled and let a spell slip
off the end of his wand with a flick of the wrist. The two moved with
suck fluidity and coordinated precision, it was not absurd to believe
they had spent a great deal of time over the past two weeks practicing
this precise move for the express purpose of performing this single and
particular act perfectly.
        The spell collided with the rat in mid-flight. The result was
that instead of a rat impacting the far wall, the drywall felt the solid
thud of a frumpy little man with watery eyes. After dropping solidly on
his head, the little man curled defensively into a tight little ball; a
simpering, whimpering little mess he made.
        "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" said the first man,
knowing full and well what he had.
        "If it isn't our old friend Scabbards!" answered the second in
the exact same voice as the first.
        "We've been worried sick about you!" said the first, with mock
anger failing to cover his predatory grin.
        "You don't write; you don't call," continued the second, shaking
his head in mock shame while wearing an equally toothy grin as the
first.
        "P-p-please!" squealed the little man, sounding on the verge of
tears. "I-I'll do anything, ANYTHING, if you just don't hurt me!"
        Mr. First's face seemed to soften as if he were considering the
man's pleas. "Aw, I'm such a sucker for a good beg," he said. "We should
let him go."
        "No," replied Mr. Second, looking quite eager, "I still want to
simply flay him."
        "Well, we'll never decide this between ourselves," reasoned Mr.
First.
        "Indeed," replied Mr. Second. "We need a third opinion."
        The alligator smiles were back on their faces as both called
out, "Oh, m'Lord!" at the same time.
        "I don't think we'll be killing Mr. Pettigrew," said a low voice
from the shadow of the entry way.
        There was a crunching of plaster and glass underfoot as the
figure drew closer to Wormtail.
        "P-p-please Mr.--" Wormtail's begging was cut short with a wave
of Mr. Second's wand.
        The dark figure made a disappointed clucking sound as he shook
his head. "There will be no more begging out of you tonight, Mr.
Pettigrew. You're going to take your lumps, and then you're going to
deliver a message for me."
        There was a long, slow hiss as the figure drew a short, silvery
sword, ornately decorated with red jewels, out of its scabbard. The
figured regarded the blade for a moment. The metal seemed to glow in the
low, diffuse light of the evening hours.
        "Are you ready to begin, Mr. Pettigrew?" inquired the figure.
        For his part, Wormtail shook his head violently "no" as he tried
to shield his head and neck with his arms.
        There was a whoosh of air as the sword lashed out. Wormtail's
scream was muffled by his glued tongue as the sword bit into his right
arm, just below his metallic grey hand. The severed artery quickly began
spurting blood onto the floor. "That, was for my mother."
        A second stroke of the blade removed Wormtail's left arm, just
above his Dark Mark. More blood flowed from the new wound to add to the
blood gathering on the floor. "That was for my father."
        With a wave of the shadow's wand, the stumps of Wormtail's arms
snapped together, and were drawn up, away from his body. A second flick
of his wand sent a tongue of flame to sear the flesh of Wormtail's
wounds. "That was for Sirius Black."
        Wormtail collapsed in a shivering heap, moaning pathetically.
Harry kneeled in front of the sad little man. He reached into a pocket
of his jacket and removed a small black pouch. Harry pulled a rather
plain looking signet stamp out of the bag and held it gingerly in his
gloved left hand. "And this, Mr. Pettigrew," said Harry, gesturing with
the signet stamp, "is for me."
        Upon seeing the signet, Wormtail began to struggle desperately
to get away from Harry. Mr. First and Mr. Second stopped him dead in his
tracks with two well placed hexes. Wormtail was flipped over onto his
back and pinned to the floor, arms splayed wide, feet together. He
struggled and moaned as Harry tore open his shirt. Fear shone brightly
in Wormtail's eyes as Harry slowly lowered the signet onto his bare
chest. Though the signet appeared quite cool in Harry's hand, the second
it touched Wormtail's chest, the little man's flesh sizzled and hissed
and smoked as if being burned.
        "Now," said Harry, slipping the signet back into his pouch,
"listen carefully. I want you  to deliver a message to your friend,"
Harry said the word as if it were spelled with four letters, "Mr. Snape,
that I know where he is. I want you to tell him I'm coming for him, and
that he will pay for what he's done."
        With a flick of his wand, Harry removed all the spells from Mr.
Pettigrew. With a swish and flick, Wormtail was thrown bodily out the
doorway. Wormtail amazingly managed to struggle to his feet, and quickly
ran off into the night.
        Without turning his eyes away from the floor were his parent's
betrayer had just lain, Harry spoke to his two companions. "Go and
gather the usual suspects. We'll meet in two hours time at the manor."
        The two men bowed to Harry and said in unison, "Yes, Lord
Potter."
        With two quiet pops they were gone.

--

        It wasn't at all the triumphant arrival they had pictured.
Stiff, cold, and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began
dragging them up the grassy slope, toward the great oak front doors.
        "I think the feast's already started," said Ron, dropping his
trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look
through a brightly lit window. "Hey - Harry - come and look - it's the
Sorting!"
        Harry hurried over and, together, he and Ron peered in at the
Great Hall. Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long,
crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead,
the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled
with stars. Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw
a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny
was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair.
        Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her
hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a
stool before the newcomers. Every year, this aged old hat, patched,
frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses
(Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Harry well
remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified,
for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. For a few horrible
seconds he had feared that the hat was going to put him in Slytherin,
the house that had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any
other -but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione, and
the rest of the Weasleys. Last term, Harry and Ron had helped Gryffindor
win the House Championship, beating Slytherin for the first time in
seven years.
        A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place
the hat on his head. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor
Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff
table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in
the candlelight. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy,
drinking deeply from  is goblet.
        "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's two empty chairs at
the staff table... Where's Snape?"
        Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher.
Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel,
sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the  students from his own
house (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions.
        "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.
        "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the
Defense Against Dark Arts job again!"
        "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I
mean, everyone hates him -"
        "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's
waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."
        Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold
breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a
hooked nose, and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment,
he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep
trouble. Next two Snape was a man Harry had never seen before. He was
slightly taller than Snape, and his hair was cropped close to his scalp
in a cut Harry normally associated with military men and not wizards.
His face would have been handsome if it weren't for the long scar that
began just below his hairline in the center of his forehead, and
extended down across his right eye. The man's right eye was huge and
shockingly blue.  It was apparently severely damaged by the wound that
left his scar, as it spun maddeningly around in i's socket, seemingly of
it's own volition. His left eye was normal sized and a rather vivid
shade of green. The man's smile was, if anything, larger than Snape's.
        "Professor Snape," began the second man, "Would you be so kind
as to retrieve these boy's head of house while I escort them to
Professor McGonagall's office?"
        "I'd be delighted to, Professor Black," answered Snape, leering
at the boys as he left to enter the Great Hall.
        "Follow me," said the man in a voice that assured the boys that
they were about to meet a fate worse than death.

--

        Harry shivered, despite the heating pads in his parka and chaps
having been set to the highest temperature. He took one of his hands off
the reins to adjust his goggles and mask on his face, and tuck his scarf
more firmly into his hood. Harry felt Hermione shift in her seat behind
him. She tapped Harry on the shoulder and he heard her voice buzzing in
his ears, "How much farther?"
        Harry took a moment to read the image shifting hazily in the
crystal sphere mounted on the horn of his saddle. "We're still about
seventeen minutes out," he replied, speaking into the microphone in his
mask.
        "Is it always this cold?" Hermione asked.
        "We're twelve miles up, Hermione. This is down right tropical."
        The differences between riding a dragon and piloting a plane
were similar to the differences between riding a horse and driving a
motorcycle. Harry's mount was alive and literally had a mind of it's
own. This meant that it was more of a partnership than merely a form of
transportation. It also meant at times like this, Harry could let F'narl
fly on his own to the target. Heck, Harry could even sleep if he wanted
to, sure that F'narl would wake him when he was needed, though he didn't
trust sleep in this cold.
        Harry leaned against the back brace of his saddle and tried to
relax a little more. He knew he needed to calm himself before they were
over the target. Harry checked the formation of his wingmates, making
sure they were tight. There was no room for error this sortie. As usual,
Ginny and Puffmudegon were as precise as always, perfectly situated on
his left rear, and Harry could see Colin Creevy fiddling with his
equipment behind her. To his right, Ron and his Ph'rill were matching
him wing-stroke for wing-stroke, with Luna Lovegood staring off into
space (and it just about was space at this altitude) behind him.
        Though Muddy and Ril were both Taimats, the species of dragon
specifically breed and altered to be stronger, faster, smarter, higher-
flying, and all but invisible to magical detection, F'narl was
exceptional in the utmost. F'narl was half again as large as the next
largest Taimat, and about three times as strong. He was the biggest of
the first clutch born, and Harry had been the first thing he'd ever
seen. The other two dragons kept tucked tightly in F'narl's draft to
conserve their strength. F'narl took pride in the fact that he was
strong enough to cruise for hundreds of miles without rotating in the
formation and hated not flying lead.

        Presently Harry found himself nearing the drop point, and he
raised his hand to signal to Ginny and Ron. "We're here," Harry said to
Hermione through the crew-com. "Start readying the bomb."
        As Hermione busied herself fussing over her little control
panel, Harry made ready to begin his pass. He nudged F'narl into a
cleaner line. Then he slowed the dragon slightly for a smoother drop and
a few more fractions of a second over the target. Finally, Harry
selected his target in his orb screen, and waited as the lines showing
his firing solution and release point faded into view.
        Mount Terror as it was known to all, though that was not the
"official" name it bore on Muggle maps. It was one of the largest
mountains in the Alps and a major stronghold for the opposition. Harry
had already taken most of the land friendly to humans and their allies,
but the others persisted as they always had, in the mountains, in the
deserts, in the dark depths of the sea, and the darkest stretches of
forest. This mission was not simply to inflict a terrible wound upon
their enemy and break the back of their war machine. It was to break
their will to fight by showing them the price of challenging Lord
Potter.
        "It's ready," Hermione said quietly. She had not wanted to help
with this project, but all it took was one tour of the aftermath of a
massacre to get her to agree to this undertaking.
        There was to be but one bomb dropped this mission. There were
only two dragons in all Harry's armies that could be entrusted with such
a precious and potent ordinance. One of them was F'narl, the other was
K'lach, who was delivering the second bomb to another, similar target.
        "Beginning my run," Harry said over the wireless as he neared
the optimal firing solution.
        "Bombs away." An egg-shaped object dropped form the small rack
harnessed between the dragon's front legs.

--

        "What have we got next," asked Ron, reaching over to grab some
more crisps out of a bowl on the table.
        "Defense Against Dark Arts with Professor James Black," replied
Hermione, checking the sheet of paper in front of her.
        "Blimey, that guy?" said Ron with great exasperation.
        "I really don't think he's so bad. He's supposed to be an
Auror," said Hermione admonishingly.
        "What's an Auror?" asked Harry.
        "It's someone who hunts Dark wizards for the Ministry of Magic,"
replied Ron, making a face. "And anyone who's a friend of Snape's can't
be anything but horrible, can they?"
        "Perhaps you shouldn't judge people so quickly," Hermione said,
leaving the table in a huff. She remember the taunting Ron had given her
last year, and though they were friends now, the memory of it still
smarted.
        "What's up with her?" asked Harry, watching Hermione storm out
of the hall.
        "Women," replied Ron simply.
        "Well, we'd better hurry if we don't want to be late."

        The students filed slowly into the Defense Against Dark Arts
classroom, all unsure what to expect from this new teacher. The room was
dark as the windows in the room had all been covered, save a small one
near the teacher's desk that shed a cone of light on the aged wood.
Prof. Black was sitting behind his desk, and seemed to be incredibly
absorbed in his observation of an ant in a little glass dish. He was
hunched over the dish with a magnifying glass, studying intently the
moves of the little creature.
        The classroom filled up, and everyone sat there quietly for the
first few minutes. Slowly, as Prof. Black did not seem to take notice of
the class, murmurs began to spread about the classroom. Hermione, who
had forgiven Harry and Ron enough to save them seats, twitched nervously
on her stool as the precious time she could be spending learning slipped
away.
        With great trepidation, Hermione slowly raised her hand. "Uh,
professor? Shouldn't we--"
        "What is the Sun?" asked Prof. Black, quite suddenly, his blue
eye settling on Hermione, though the green one remained focused on the
ant.
        "Um... uh..." Hermione stuttered, caught of guard by the sudden
question. "A star?" she answered literally.
        "Are you sure?"
        "Yes..." said Hermione, her voice trailing of in a very
unassured way.
        "You don't sound very sure. Would you like to change your
answer?"
        "N-no," answered Hermione, deathly afraid of being wrong, but
quite sure the Sun was really a star.
        "You are correct. The Sun most certainly is a star." Prof.
Black's blue eye began swirling around in its socket once more,
occasionally rolling back into his eye socket even.
        After nearly a minute had passed, without Prof. Black
continuing, Hermione's arm once again snaked up into the air.
"Professor, what abou--"
        "As a star," interrupted the Professor yet again, "is the Sun
powerful?"
        "Yes," answered Hermione quickly, this time more sure of
herself.
        "How powerful then?"
        Hermione paused for a moment. "Well, the Sun gives off so much
energy that every second it gives off as much energy as Muggles have
used in all their technology in the entire history of the planet."
        "Hmm, that's a lot of power," said Prof. Black, nodding
thoughtfully. He finally lifted his head from the small ant and looked
at Hermione with both eyes. "I don't believe you, though."
        "Sir?" asked Hermione incredulously, with snickers from the
Slytherin half of the room.
        Prof. Black stood and walked slowly from around his desk. "I
said I don't believe you. If the Sun were so powerful, then surely this
ant would be harmed by being in its light?" said Prof. Black gesturing
at the little ant in the dish that was most certainly sitting in direct
sunlight.
        "It doesn't all come down at the same spot!" Hermione was quite
fervent now and growing louder by the moment. She was sure she was
right, as she had read those facts in a book. If there was one thing
Hermione couldn't stand it was ignorance, especially in a so-called
teacher. "The Sun is ninety-four million miles away, so its light is
very diffuse!"
        "Softly," replied Prof. Black. His low voice quickly silenced
Hermione. She blushed terribly and found a very interesting spot on the
table in front of her.
        Prof. Black slowly walked out in front of his desk, his blue eye
resuming its spin. He sat himself on a forward corner of his desk and
addressed the class, "Miss Granger is quite right, however. The Sun is
quite powerful, though that power is very diffuse at a distance."
Hermione noticeably relaxed in her chair. "Ten points for Gryffindor."
        Prof. Black gestured at the Sun through the window with the
looking glass in his hand. "For all the Sun's power, it cannot bring
enough to bare even to harm a simple ant. The Sun is only dangerous when
its power can be focused to the task at hand." Prof. Black slipped the
looking glass between the window and the dish in which the ant scurried
about purposefully. Twisting the glass slowly, a bright point of light
landed on the dish and the ant shriveled into a burned husk and died.
"Without focus, all the power in the world is useless to you.
        "As it is with the Sun, so it is with wizards. We wizards have a
great deal of power within us, more than most any other creature on the
planet. That power is very raw and diffuse and can normally be utilized
only under the most stressful and desperate situations, as I'm sure you
all have experienced in your youth."
        Prof. Black began to to pace in front of the class as his
lecture continued. "We have learned to focus our power through the use
of wands," Prof. Black's wand was suddenly in his hand. "The wand, and
all the power you will ever wield, is useless without focus of the mind.
As the wise Muggle--"
        "Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" asked Malfoy with a
smirk.
        "Ten points from Slytherin for interrupting, and ten more for
racism that I simply won't tolerate in my presence," Black said
forcefully, rounding on Malfoy with a look of pure scorn in his eyes,
that both locked solidly onto Malfoy. The boy squirmed under the harsh
gaze and scowled at being reprimanded.
        "As I was saying. The wise Muggle Sun Tzu once said,
'Fallibility and infallibility are functions of one's own Tao... Thus
one's defeat comes from within one's self, as one's victory comes from
within one's enemy. One's enemy cannot bring about one's downfall, as
one cannot bring about one's enemy's defeat. Prepare yourself, follow
the Tao of battle, and you shall not be defeated.'"
        Prof. Black stopped pacing and turned to the class. "Who was Sun
Tzu?"
        Hermione's hand was, as usual, the first in the air. "Miss
Granger?"
        "Sun Tzu was a general in the Emperor's service during the fifth
century. He is known to--"
        "That is sufficient," said Prof. Black, cutting Hermione off.
"These words are fifteen centuries old, yet remain true to this day.
Truth, no matter the source," scowled Black, glancing quickly at Malfoy,
"remains true, throughout all time. It is immutable and permanent in a
Universe of flux.
        "There are more dark things out there than you or I could
scarcely imagine. Thus it is that preparing you to face individual
threats would be a most futile undertaking on my part. You will indeed
learn how to defend against common threats," said Prof. Black at
Hermione's horrified look, "but more importantly you will learn how to
find and exploit your enemy's weaknesses, while guarding your own. You
will learn to focus your mind until it is a weapon in and of itself. You
will learn logic and discipline, and their applications against foes.
You will learn how to make yourself infallible against any enemy. Thus I
hope to arm you against those that would do you harm.
        "Open your books to page seven."
        There was a loud rustling of paper as the students rushed to
open their books to the proper page.
        "Mr. Longbottom, begin reading the first passage aloud."
        As Neville Longbottom began reading the passage, Prof. Black
began drawing a simple diagram of a Cornish pixie on the blackboard.
        "That will do nicely, Mr. Longbottom," said Prof. Black, turning
and reaching for something behind his desk. He pulled out a large cage
covered with a sheet and placed it on the desk. Removing the sheet with
a flourish, he revealed the cage to be full of Cornish pixies.
        "Now who can tell me what advantages these pixies have over
wizards?" he inquired of the class.
        "Those little things?" sneered Malfoy. "They've got no advantage
over true wizards," he said, looking over at Harry, Ron, and Hermione
when he said this.
        "Is that so? Does everyone agree with Mr. Malfoy?"
        As much as it pained Harry to admit it, the little pixies didn't
seem like much of a threat, even to a Muggle. No one else in the
classroom spoke up, and Prof. Black looked quite disappointed.
        "Well, if that's how you all think, then I believe it's time for
a pop quiz." The whole class moaned at having a quiz on their first day.
        "Anyone who leaves the room gets no marks for today and will
lose five points for their house," proclaimed Prof. Black just before he
unlatched the cage.
        Quite suddenly, the room was full of Cornish pixies. The little
devils were quite ill tempered and had sharp little claws and pointy
little teeth, which they set to using almost immediately. The whole of
the class was quickly on their feet, arms swatting at air in an attempt
to get the pixies off.
        Harry's reflexes had been honed by a year of Quidditch practice.
He quickly snatched a pixie from around Hermione's head that had been
pulling her hair and thumped its head soundly on the table. Having
stunned the pixie thusly, he quickly threw the devilish creature through
the open cage door.
        "Excellent!" exclaimed Prof. Black, whom the pixies gave a wide
berth, "Five points and first blood to Gryffindor!"
        "Immobulus!" shouted Hermione, waving her wand at a group of
pixies, which stopped moving and drifted slowly through the air. Ron
quickly gathered the three stunned pixies and shoved them into the cage.
        "Three more for Gryffindor!" bellowed a highly amused Black over
the din. "You Slytherins best get on task if you're to keep up!"
        "Petrificus Totalus!" yelled Harry, stopping three more pixies
who were in the process of hanging Neville from the chandelier.
        After a few eventful minutes of chaos, all the pixies had been
jinxed, cursed, bewitched, or simply manhandled back into their cage.
        "Very good, most excellent," said Prof. Black, cheerfully
tallying up the score.
        Gryffindor came out with twenty points, while Slytherin emerged
with only ten. Both houses had caught roughly the same number of pixies,
though more of the Slytherin class had fled the room.
        "As I'm sure you realize by now, pixies are much smaller than
wizards. Combined with the mobility and speed flight gives them, they
are difficult to catch. The also posses sharp, though small, claws and
teeth, as the many lacerations clearly demonstrate. Not to mention the
fact that these pixies out numbered you students two to one. These are
the strengths of the pixies.
        "Their weaknesses are their inability to cast magic. Their
undisciplined cooperation, they only work with one another occasionally.
They are not nearly as clever as even the dumbest wizard. Finally, they
cannot attack from a distance, and thus must put themselves in harms way
to attack.
        "Your homework for the week will be to write an essay on which
type of Elemental you would fight, and why. Analyze its strengths and
weaknesses and discuss tactics you'd use. I expect at least eight inches
of parchment from all of you. Class dismissed."

        "That wasn't quite as bad as I'd thought it'd be," said Harry,
straightening his robes as they left the class.
        "Loads of fun," agreed Ron, dabbing at a pixie bight with a
handkerchief. "We actually came out with a few extra points for the
house. Never did that in Potions!"
        "Well I found the entire ordeal quite unbecoming of a teacher!"
chided Hermione, seethingly.
        "Oh, get over yourself!" responded Ron, rolling his eyes.
        "Say, Harry?" inquired Ron. "Which type of Elemental would you
fight? I'd have to go with an Sylph. Not much a bit of wind could do
you."
        "I don't know," answered Harry thoughtfully, "I'd probably go
for a Salamander."
        "Are you mad!" exclaimed Ron. It was not a question. "They're
the worst of the lot!"
        "Maybe, but all you'd really have to do to fight them is dodge
their flames and shoot water or ice at them."
        Hermione made a snort of disgust and stomped off to her next
class.

        The week had passed uneventfully and Harry was starting to hope
that he might just get through this year with a somewhat conventional
Hogwart's experience. He tried not to think about it too much, as he
didn't want to jinx it. The only really unusual thing in his life,
acknowledging that he was in a school for wizards and witches and all
that went along with that, was his Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Indeed, much to Hermione's frustration, Prof. Black seemed determined to
hold the most unorthodox class in all of history. They spent several
classes doing word puzzles and trying to figure out what a puzzle was of
while missing half the pieces.
        Harry didn't care much for Prof. Black, as he seemed to be
harder on Harry than he was on most other students. Harry's only solace
came from the fact that he also showed every bit as much dislike for
Draco Malfoy.
        Harry, Ron, and Hermione queued up for their Monday Defense
Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione muttering under her breath
about useless busy work and clueless teachers. The doors to the
classroom swung open and Prof, Black stepped out into the hall.
        "Place your Elemental essay on my desk, place your bags by your
seats, then return to the hallway forming two parallel lines," ordered
Prof. Black, his left eye scanning the crowd, his right eyee spinning
randomly.
        Harry placed his bag at the table he, Ron, and Hermione usually
occupied. He opened his bag and removed and removed his essay. Harry
walked to the front of the class, placed his essay in the growing pile
of parchment rolls, and came back into the hall, where two lines were
already taking shape behind Prof. Black. It came as no surprise to Harry
that the lines were segregated by house, Slytherin in one line, and
Gryffindor in the other. The rivalry between the two houses was
legendary. Harry was simply thankful that he didn't end up standing next
to Malfoy.
        "Follow me," said Prof. Black, once the class had all filed out
and gotten into lines.
        Prof. Black lead the class through the castle, out onto the
grounds, and down near the Forbidden Forest. At first, Harry thought
they might be going to see some dangerous dark creature that Hagrid was
keeping for Prof. Black. Instead, they were led down near where the
forest met the shore of the lake. There was a stiff breeze blowing off
the lake, fanning the large bonfire that had been set, and wisping dirt
off of a large mound of earth and stone, forming a sort of rhombus with
the lake at one point.
        "Gather round now," called Prof. Black. The class spread out
around Prof. Black, coagulating in small social groups.
        "Now, all those who chose air Elementals, raise your hands,"
ordered Prof. Black. A large section of the class, including Ron raised
their hands. "Very good. Please stand over there," Prof. Black gestured
over by the forest.
        "Now, all who chose water Elementals, down by the lake." More of
the class left, taking Hermione with them, and stood on the shore of the
lake.
        "Earth Elementals over by those rocks." It seemed to Harry that
the rest of the class was removed in the last sorting. Was he the only
one who chose a fire Elemental?
        "It seems only two students chose to fight fire," said a
smirking Prof. Black. "Mr. Malfoy, might I inquire as to why you chose
such a dangerous foe?"
        Harry felt his stomach lurch and bile rise in his gullet at the
thought of somehow ending up alone in the same category as Malfoy.
        "They're not so dangerous," said Malfoy haughtily, letting his
obvious dislike for Prof. Black seep into his voice. "just douse them
with a bit of water or ice and it takes the fight right out of the
stupid things."
        "And what about you, Mr. Potter? What reason could you have to
face such a threat, assuming it's something other than pure ignorance on
your part?"
        Harry grit his teeth to suppress the rage he felt. "Because I
thought that while it would be no more dangerous than fighting any other
Elemental and it was easy to fight them."
        "So you concur with Mr. Malfoy?" said Prof. Black, locking both
eyes on Harry with a penetrating stare.
        Harry had the distinct impression that Prof. Black was reading
his thoughts with that gaze. "Yes, sir," replied Harry in a low voice,
so as few people as possible would actually hear him. The self-satisfied
look on Malfoy's face made Harry want to bash his teeth in to wipe that
smile off.
        "A wise choice. That is, if you know the proper spells, namely
those that produces ice and water, a greater salamander is not terribly
difficult to defeat. They are not particularly clever, they are not so
fast as to overcome your reflexes, and they have readily apparent
weaknesses which you can exploit.
        "Stand over near that bonfire, won't you?
        "Moving on, I'm curious as to why so many chose to fight air
Elementals?" Prof. Black inquired as he turned to face the group of nine
students who had chosen air elementals. There was a low mumbling among
the group, though no clear answer arose.
        "Well, let's try you, Mr. Weasley. Why did you chose an air
Elemental?" Ron looked a bit shocked that he was called on. Sitting next
to Hermione meant that she usually got called on to answer a question,
and sitting next to Harry meant Snape had someone else to pick on
instead of Ron usually. This meant that Ron was quite unused to having
questions asked of him by teachers.
        "Um... ah... that is to say... really, what could a bit of wind
do to you?" Ron managed to stammer out.
        "So you think a sylph is 'just a bit of wind' due you, Mr.
Weasley?" Ron didn't get a chance to answer, as Prof. Black placed his
fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The rustling of the
air through the trees increased dramatically as a strong wind blew out
of the forest quite suddenly. Looking closer, Harry realized that what
he took to be simple wind was really a vaporous figure gliding through
the air.
        The figure quickly circled the three groups, and Harry and
Malfoy, three times, moving with a fluid grace Harry had never seen in
another creature. It looked like the outline of a person and the outline
of a bird laid over each other with the edges blurred past all meaning.
It looked like a living piece of art.
        Then it wheeled over the earthen mound and dove. What happened
next took place so fast that Harry didn't register what had happened
until after it was over. The sylph had swooped down to the ground and
lifted dozens of small rocks and twigs off the ground. It then rocketed
toward the tree line with the talus and debris in tow. The Elemental
then launched the little missiles at the tree trunks.
        A murmur passed through the crowd of students. Embedded in the
trunks of several trees were the stones, the twigs poking out like
misshapen arrows. A surprising amount of damage had been done to the
trees with just a few pounds of loose material.
        "As you can see, the wind alone will do relatively little to
you. However, at extreme velocities, every object not firmly secured
will become dangerous shrapnel." It was plain from the looks on several
of the students who picked air Elementals that they were reconsidering
their choice.
        "Now I would also like you to consider the speed at which the
sylph moves," said Prof. Black while gesturing at the swooping and
whirling creature. "Such speed makes it difficult to hit. This means if
you try to use a lot of complex spells against a sylph, you'll end up
quite dead, if you're lucky, merely terribly wounded.
        "And then there is the matter of its insubstantial nature. It is
unlikely you could generate enough wind to overwhelm a sylph, so you
cannot coral it that way. Physical spells that would normally damage an
opponent will do little to no harm to a sylph. Cages, or indeed any form
of imprisonment that is not air-tight will allow the sylph to escape.
        "A sylph's weakness lie in the fact that it insubstantial,
however. It is all but impossible for a sylph to harm you on its own. It
must use available material to launch as missiles at you. If you were to
clear away all rubbish from around you in a large enough area, you could
limit the attacks the sylph could retaliate with.
        "A sylph also has a flighty personality and a deep seated need
to move. This means that a sylph cannot stand to sit still for more than
a few brief moments and is thus unable to hide or even stay within a
single enclosed space for long."
        Prof. Black turned to the group on the shore of the water.
"Would one of you like to explain how you would fight an undine?"
        It was a great surprise to no one when Hermione's hand shot up
first. Prof. Black did not immediately call on her and instead continued
to look at the group with his left eye, while his right continued to
spin in its socket. After about a minute without being called on,
Hermione began to wave her arm back and forth slightly, as if Prof.
Black had somehow simply not noticed her hand up.
        "Mr. Thomas, perhaps you can enlighten us as to how you would go
about fighting an undine?"
        Hermione looked crushed; Dean looked like a deer caught in the
head lights. "Uh... um... Kill it with fire?"
        Prof. Black actually smiled. "Interesting way of phrasing that,
Mr. Thomas. So let's test your theory, shall we?"
        Prof. Black let out a long, low whistle. A few moments later,
the water swirled a few feet off shore. A slender, curvaceous, beautiful
though gaunt woman rose slowly out of the waves. She had long jet black
hair that fell down around her to her knees in thick, wet bunches. It
was quite fortunate that it did, as she had not a stitch of clothing on
her pale ghostly flesh.
        With a flick of his wand that was quite suddenly in his hand,
Prof. Black sent a flaming log from the bonfire flying towards the
undine. With a hiss and a wave of its arm, a large wave sprang from the
lake. The log smashed into the wall of water, quickly engulfed and
extinguished. The undine didn't seem too happy about having fire thrown
at her, but then again, she didn't seem too happy about anything.
        "Undines are some of the more powerful Elementals. Their powers,
and their beauty, are tied to the body of water they inhabit. If you can
get them to leave their lake and come on land, you can easily defeat
them. Of course, it would be easier to get a fish to come on land than
an undine. Unlike greater salamanders and sylphs, an undine is quite
solid. This means that if you can get through their defenses, you can
easily injure them. Though that is a rather large 'if'. Their real
weakness lies in their quick tempers. Though normally the keenest of
minds among Elementals, undines can be blinded by their rage if you can
provoke them.
        "Undines always are within their medium. If you face one, it
will be on their ground, on their terms. Your goal should be to subvert
or negate the undine's defenses long enough to attack the undine
directly."
        Prof. Black whirled about quite suddenly and pointed at the four
students standing in front of the mound of dirt and talus. "You!"
shouted Prof. Black. "Longbottom, why choose an earth elemental?"
        Neville looked terrified, locked in the gaze of both of Prof.
Black's eyes. "Uh, w-well I'm not very fast and I can't swim, I sink
rather like a rock, so I figured I had a shot at outrunning an earth
elemental..." Neville petered off as snickers began to arise from the
crowd, mostly from the Slytherins.
        "Excellent Mr. Longbottom!" declared Prof. Black in a loud
booming voice with a broad smile on his face. "You analyzed your own
strengths and weaknesses, then those of your opponents, and selected the
opponent that gave yourself the greatest tactical advantage. Ten points
for Gryffindor!"
        Neville, not used to being complemented actually blushed.
        "Earth Elementals are slow moving and have a limited range.
However, they can soak large amounts of damage so your spells will have
to pack a wallop if you want to take one down. Just remember not to go
on to long with it. You might be able to chip away at it for hours, but
all it needs is one lucky shot to put you down."
        Prof. Black gave a series of short, sharp, whistles, and the
mound behind Neville and his like minded terraphiles began to move and
stood up. The creature was roughly man-shaped. Very rough indeed as
boulders and rocks constituted the majority of its body, with soil
filling in the gaps, and it stood just under twenty feet tall. Its head
was far larger than a man's would proportionally be, and its arms
drooped a bit too low. Its legs were short, stumpy, and somewhat
bowlegged. The most human thing about it were its eyes, soft brown
beneath heavy stone lids.
        "Just remember, students: Terraliths like to throw heavy
things."
        In a demonstration of this, the terralith lifted a large boulder
that had not been a part of its body from beside it, and tossed it over
the student's head into the forest. The boulder flew threw the trunks of
three trees before glancing off a fourth and lodging into the forest
floor.
        Prof. Black waited patiently for the crash of the falling trees
to cease before continuing, "It's important to always remember where the
large objects around you are located when battling a terralith, as you
will almost always have to dodge them when it throws them at you."
        "Now if you will queue up again we can--"
        Harry never heard what Prof. Black wanted them to do next as an
invisible hand smacked into his chest and threw him several feet. When
Harry got some sense about him again he heard the screams and squeals of
the class with Prof. Black yelling over the din.
        "That's quite enough now!" he bellowed at the bonfire Harry had
been standing near when he had been thrown.
        At first Harry wondered if there was someone standing on the
other side of the fire. Then Harry saw the fire move. Not all of it, so
it was if an entire side of the fire turned and reared itself towards
Prof. Black and the lake bellow. The form was vaguely reptilian and
seemed to be composed entirely out of fire. Harry watched as four
flaming feet attached to an inferno clawed its way across the ground
towards the lake.
        There was a line of fire trailing off towards the lake. Harry
followed it down to the shore and saw the undine looking furiously at
the salamander. The members of the class who had been standing on the
shore were scrambling out of the way, drenched from head to toe,
apparently having been caught in the midst of the undine's counter
attack.
        "Get back into the fire, you!" shouted Prof. Black, his blue eye
circling back and forth between the undine and the salamander. "I will
have order in my presence! I had your word!"
        The scuffle between the salamander seemed to have agitated the
sylph against the terralith. The sylph swooped to the forest floor,
gathering twigs and pine combs and needles before pelting the terralith
with them. Harry turned his head just fast enough to watch the four
students who had been standing in front of the earth Elemental get
lifted and tossed out the way an instant before the shrapnel impacted
the terralith, gouging sections of its hard body out and sending them
flying.
        All bets were off now, it seemed. With a flail of its arm, the
undine sent a rather large wave careening towards the salamander.
Unfortunately, about half the class would be hit by the water also.
Prof. Black spun faster than most ballerinas Harry had seen and, with a
wave of his wand, turned the wave into a solid mass of ice. Under
different circumstances, Harry would have marveled at the beauty of it.
As it was, Harry was to concerned about dying to admire it.
        The earth Elemental had been about to hurl another boulder into
the forest, this time aiming for the sylph, when Prof. Black jabbed his
wand at the stone, then swung his arm to point down at the water. The
boulder flew out of the terralith's hands and, instead of smashing
through the trees after the sylph, smashed through the ice to slam into
the undine.
        Without pause, Prof. Black gave his wand a flick and shards of
the ice flew towards the salamander, stabbing it in several places.
Harry watched as the salamander recoiled from the strikes. Its wounds
turned black and it seemed to bleed ash from the gashes left by the ice.
        Black's wand moved in a stirring motion and smoke and ash from
the bonfire swirled through the air towards the sylph, which twisted and
dove to avoid them. Black gave something of a complicated gesture with
his wand and a large bubble appeared around the sylph, which promptly
fell to the forest floor, bouncing several times with the sylph trapped
inside.
        Prof. Black wasted no time enchanting one of the fallen trees to
fly at the terralith. Harry wouldn't have thought something so large and
heavy could travel so fast. The terralith had to drop the boulder it was
picking up for another go at the sylph to catch the tree before it was
impaled on it. While the Elemental was otherwise engaged, Prof. Black
stabbed his wand at it. A large bolt of lighting issued forth, hitting
the terralith in the shoulder. Prof. Black then drug the lightning down
the terralith's side, stopping its knee. The earth Elemental collapsed
to the ground with a rumbling howl of pain as its knee gave way. The log
it had been fending off, fell on top of the creature, though Harry
doubted it was heavy enough to pin the beast.
        Prof. Black surveyed the destruction calmly, not having broken a
sweat in taking on four elementals at once. When he spoke, there was a
definate undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Queue up, two lines, and
we will proceed back to the classroom."

--

        The town wasn't all that large. It wasn't of much strategic
importance. What it was about to be, however, was an example.
        Click-clap, click-clop, the footsteps echoed throughout the
darkened and deserted streets. If any of the denizens of the town had
attended a Care of Magical Creatures class under the tutelage of one
Rubeus Hagrid, the sound might have been familiar to them as the sound
of a hippogriff's clawed and hoofed feet. As it so happened, none of the
residents of this fair burg were. Not that most of them were awake to
notice the sound or the beast that made them, for that matter.
        That was, not until the night patrolman ran into the creature.
Fortunately, his screaming death was loud enough to alert the rest of
the watch, and they were able to sound the alarm. Lights came on all
over the town as families awoke, terrified. As much as they wished this
was a drill, they knew in their hearts it was not. Lord Potter was
attacking.

        A man by the name of Jean-Paul Tibedeaux was a bachelor. He had
no family and no pets. This is probably why he was the fastest into his
car, and first on the road out of town. As he peeled out of the town, he
took a few calming breaths, sure that he would not be the next to die.
He was wrong.
        The car shook as the beast landed on it. Much to Jean's horror,
a set of large, powerful talons embedded themselves in his windshield,
just under the roof of his car. The last thing Jean saw through his
rear-view mirror was a set of powerful haunches before the rear-view
mirror, along with the front of the roof, was peeled back like the lid
of a sardine can. One of the talons seized Jean, the razor sharp claws
impaling his delicate flesh, and he was raised up out of his seat,
screaming in terror at the top of his lungs. Scarlet and gold flashed
before his eyes and was his last sight before a set of powerful jaws
crushed his skull.

        "The road out of town has been blocked at one end by overturned
cars from people trying to flee," said the captain of the guard,
pointing at a line on the map. "The other end seems to have been boobie-
trapped with a dissuasion enchantment, so drivers keep turning around
when they get there. No commoners can get through that way."
        "Are you sure it's Lord Potter?" asked the frightened looking
Baron.
        "Yes, all our reports show that the attackers are flying red and
gold, which are the colors of Lord Potter's standard. We haven't got a
good look at the opposing forces yet, but from the reports I take them
to be light cavalry, hippogriff brigade. They're probably just a small
raiding party, no more than five or six wizards."
        "Five or six wizards are as good as an entire army!" screeched
the Baron. "When will support be able to get here?"
        "Not in any meaningful numbers for eighteen hours. Potter's
troops seem to have cast some sort of blanket anti-apparation charm over
the entire city. And impressive bit a magic, really. Reinforcements are
coming as fast as they can by broom and carpet. Let's just hope Potter
hasn't sent any Thestrals along with the raiding party, or we're all
finished."
        Their conversation was cut short with a crash. The Baron died
instantly from the impact of the talons crushing his chest and piercing
his heart. The captains two lieutenants were killed shortly there after,
one from a terrible slash down his front by the other talon, the other
from a viscous bite to her midriff that severed her spine.
        The captain found himself trapped, defenseless, by the
creature's serpentine tail. His arm was pinned to his side by the coils
of the tail. A sudden jerk signaled the beast taking flight once more.
As the powerful muscles covered by dark green scales squeezed the life
out of him, the captain had a brief moment of terror at the sudden
insight to the attack. This was no hippogriff, it was a chimera. Lord
Potter had chosen to pay personal attention to this raid. And then the
world went dark.

        The thestral landed softly with barely a whisper. Four more
quickly followed it in formation. They walked quietly up to the lone
figure sitting in the middle of the town square.        The dark figure
looked up and nodded to the approaching riders.
        "I must say, Lord Potter, killing a sixth of the town's
population will send quite a message," said the lead rider.
        "I only killed six," replied Harry with an edge to his voice.
        "But... sir! We saw at least fifty bodies!" stuttered the
sergeant.
        "I only killed six," repeated Harry. "The rest were killed in
the panic to get out of town."
        The sergeant had opened his mouth to say something else when
Lord Potter interrupted him, "There are troops coming to meet us. I want
at least a half-dozen of them dead before we pull back."
        "Yes, Lord Potter!" said the sergeant crisply, snapping a sharp
salute.

--

        "As you saw," continued Prof. Black once all the students were
seated, "I used a simply freeze charm to negate the undine's defenses.
Be careful trying to use that, as if you can't freeze a large enough
volume of water around the Elemental, it just makes their attacks more
powerful.
        "I used the smoke and ash from the fire to limit the movement of
the sylph; air Elementals are very sensitive to unclean air and thus
avoid airborne contaminants. I then used a simple bubble charm to
capture the sylph followed by an unbreakable charm. The combination is
effective if you can cast the second quickly before the sylph can pop
the bubble.
        "For the greater salamander, I simply hit it with ice. Note how
it fled after taking relatively little damage. Fire Elementals are quite
capricious and you can never know if one will run or fight to the death.
        "I used a lightning spell on the earth Elemental. It takes a lot
of damage to phase a terralith, so make your hits count. You'll notice I
targeted the shoulder, hip, and knee joints. If you inhibit their
ability to fling heavy objects, they lose their capability for ranged
attacks. This means you can get nearer to the Elemental without worrying
about being hit.
        "You homework for the week is an essay on which famous wizard
you would fight, what they did, and why you'd fight them. I expect at
least ten inches of parchment from each of you. Class dismissed."