Healing

Dark Arts

The following morning saw the year eights' first Defence against the Dark Arts class with the new professor for 1998. They were all somewhat intrigued to meet Professor Fungbury. Draco recognised him as one of the pallbearers of Nymphadora Tonk's coffin. The tall, slim, sandy-haired man looked to have a friendly demeanour though there was something quick in his movements and flighty about his eyes, that fidgety-ness of slightly paranoid Aurors showed as he sat at the teachers' table observing the students in the Great Hall.

'Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,' he addressed the waiting students.

Draco did a quick count up: all of the year eights were taking this subject. Harry was, once more, absent. He still hadn't seen him. Ron and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the classroom. For once Draco sat alone, Blaise and Neville were sat together on one side of him, Pansy and Hermione on the other.

'My name is Dorian Fungbury, though I realise you must only address me as Professor. You, perhaps, should to know that I am from the Auror's Office, I qualified in 1994. My speciality is Duelling for which I have received various awards in competition outside of work, obviously beneficial with my line of duty, duelling is one of the areas which I shall be teaching you this year and we shall be practicing in nearly every...'

The door to the classroom opened with a quiet creak but when Draco looked around there was no one there so he turned back to face the front. Fungbury flicked his wand and the door slammed shut with an ominous echoing bang.

'Welcome, Mr Potter,' Fungbury said.

Like the rest of his classmates, Draco whipped his head around, searching the empty space for a sign of Harry. He assumed Harry must be under his invisibility cloak, perhaps he had been at his lessons all along? The year eights looked somewhat confusedly between the back of the classroom and Fungbury.

'I don't accept tardiness, Mr Potter. Please take a seat. I also don't accept your hiding under a Disillusionment Charm in my classes, no matter what the Headmistress has agreed with you and the other staff. You are here to learn, not to hide, no matter your reasons. You cannot learn in this class unless you partake fully, in fact, I would go so far as to say, you cannot learn in any of your classes unless you partake fully, so drop the charm and save it for the corridors.'

There was a silence. Fungbury's blue eyes were hard glints of sapphire as they stared down the empty space where Harry must be stood. Suddenly he flourished his wand and bolts appeared on the door, clicking into their locked position with frightening alacrity.

'No, Mr Potter, you will not leave like some petulant child unless you wish to fail this class and throw your chances of becoming an Auror. SIT DOWN, MR MALFOY AND MISS GRANGER!' Fungbury's gaze had not left the back of the room. Draco sat down quickly; he was fuming that this man dared to speak to Harry like this but he was also slightly terrified of him. He read the same expression in the faces of his fellow classmates; some were actually watching open-mouthed.

Suddenly, the Disilllusionment Charm fell from Harry, the class gasped as they saw he held his wand at the ready, his face was flushed with anger, his eyes like dull stones of hatred. The room seemed to vibrate slightly at the barely contained magic. Draco winced, impressed that Fungbury held his gaze, apparently unfearful as the most powerful wizard in the world pointed his wand at him and was clearly ready to curse him into the middle of France.

When Fungbury spoke again, his voice was soft. 'I know you are angry, Harry, I know you are also probably feeling guilty, and immense sorrow, and deep loss, and a whole plethora of other emotions at the moment. But you are among friends here, everyone in this room was present during the Battle of Hogwarts, myself included; everyone, at some moment afterwards, attended at least one funeral of someone they lost that day. I know that you, along with Mr Malfoy and Mr Longbottom here, attended all fifty of the Fallens' funerals, but it is time to stop punishing yourself and time to begin to move on. We may not have been through the gruelling torment that you have shouldered over the last seven years of your young life, though your friends Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have been with you every step of the way. So, I mean it when I say you are amongst friends, and you are amongst friends who have a degree of understanding of what you have been through. Don't push them away, you will recover better with the support of those around you. Now, please lower your wand and take a seat. There is a seat here, next to Mr Malfoy.'