Fatal Errors

The Great Hall the next morning was packed with students and teachers alike, all enjoying the last minutes before the school year began. All except for one, who was anything but enjoying this time. Snape sat up at the High Table, not even touching his food, dreading what the evening would hold. He knew everything that would need to be said, however, that didn't help him calm down. He ignored all the staff members that looked at him strangely due to this uncharacteristic behavior and just tried to keep calm. All the while, his eyes were fixed on a certain student sitting at the Gryffindor table, the one he would have to tell everything to.

The students, however, were a totally different story. They all sat, talking loudly, occasionally eating some of their breakfasts. Harry, however, was staring at the High Table, trying to figure something out.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry asked.

That caught Hermione by surprise. She hadn't thought of that before, for some odd reason. She too looked up at the High Table, and didn't see anyone new. After everyone finished eating, Dumbledore stood up, addressing all the students. "I'm sure that some of you are wondering who our next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is, as our previous one is currently unable to teach." All the older students cheered at those words. "Even though it was difficult -- "

"No doubt," Ron whispered to Harry.

" -- we have found a replacement for this year. However, he is not here yet, so I cannot yet introduce him to you."

"Says who?" said a voice from the Entrance Hall.

Everyone turned to the door. A man walked through the door. Nothing was unusual about him. He was of average height, with blond hair and brown eyes. He walked to the High Table, where he shook hands and exchanged a few words with Dumbledore. He sat down at the far end of the table, while Dumbledore started speaking again. "I'd like to introduce all of you to Michael Bourdon, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." No one applauded him, or did much of anything, as no one seemed to know him. He, however, stood up, and the hall went silent.

"I'd just like to say a few things before your first day of classes begins." Harry suddenly noticed that he had an accent, although he couldn't place it. "As all of you know, the threat of Voldemort has been growing constantly since late June. Although that is only two months, we must do all that we can to stop his power from growing. That is why I took this job. Unlike the last teacher to hold this position, I will teach you the spells. I will teach you to fight." With those words, he stepped down and walked out of the Hall.

"Sounds like he's trying to train an army," Harry said to no one in particular.

"Knowing Voldemort, we'll need it," Hermione said. Harry suddenly had the feeling she was right.

~*~

Robert sat in his first class of the day, Potions. He noticed that Snape was acting strangely around him, but didn't try to figure out why. He just sat there, occasionally adding or stirring ingredients in his Draught of Peace. When he took a sample up to Snape to be graded, Snape just looked at him strangely. When the bell rang to end classes, Snape called, "Mr. Schaza, before you leave." Robert turned around, slightly confused.

"What do you want?" he asked Snape, not at all politely.

"For you to cut the attitude, for one," he said. "For a second thing, meet me in my office this evening after dinner. I have to tell you some things."

"What things?"

"You'll see then. For now, just trust me."

"Like I could do that," Robert said sarcastically.

"Cut the sarcasm, too. Just trust me. I didn't want to meet you. The headmaster told me to tell you, and that's the only reason that I'm doing this," Snape finished. "Now leave, I don't want to see you again until tonight."

~*~

Before that, in the sixth year's first class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts, the new professor was keeping his word.

"Come on, Harry!" he yelled, "You can do better than that!"

Harry was totally taken aback by the professor's ability. He had expected that he would be able to beat him, but he was learning the hard way not to underestimate his opponents. He sent a jet of red light over towards him, but Michael dodged it easily.

"How can I do better than I am?" Harry yelled.

"You're intelligent, figure it out!" was the response.

Harry was confused. He ducked a severing charm sent his way, and tried to figure out how to get himself out of this mess. Finally, a solution came to him. He cast a banishing charm on the floor, which sent him flying into the air. He then sent a stunner towards the professor, which caught him unawares, and he fell to the ground. Harry landed on the ground unceremoniously, using his left wrist to break his fall. Unfortunately, he also broke his wrist. Hermione ran towards Harry to see if he was okay. Madam Pomfrey, who was in the room against her better judgement ("Why do you let these kids kill themselves out there?" she had said), revived the professor and fixed Harry's wrist with just a flick of her wand. She walked away, muttering about careless people.

"That'll be it for today," Michael said. "I didn't expect four duels to take that long, but all of you held your own out there. For the performances of all of you out there, you'll have no homework. You're all dismissed."

"That guy is good," Harry said.

"Any idea why?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Michael from behind them. "Haven't you noticed my accent?"

"Yeah, you're American," Ron said. "What about it?"

"Isn't there a wizarding army in America?" Hermione asked.

"No, there isn't," Michael said. "We only say that to see if other, more gullible people believe us. No, I went to a special school there, in New Mexico. It's practically out in the middle of nowhere, so we can practice just about anything there. It specializes in training people in dueling."

"Isn't that the same as an army?" Ron asked.

"No, because none of it is organized. We're taught, then they set us free so we can do whatever we want to with the knowledge that we gained."

"That's stupid," Harry said. "They're practically training dark wizards out there."

Michael shrugged. "That's America. What else do you expect?"