Harry Potter: A Tale of Revenge

She raised a worried eyebrow. No stutter? Harry said he'd stutter.

"This class is to prepare you for the threats that you will encounter outside these walls, of which there are many." Quirrell's voice was regular and well paced, neither too loud nor too quiet.

"These threats come in two varieties, magical and mundane. We will spend most of this year focusing on how to defend against mundane threats."

Quirrell looked behind her. "You have a question, Mister Malfoy?"

She turned. Malfoy put his hand down.

"Professor," the blonde haired boy drawled, "why are we wasting our time with such trivial concerns? Muggles pose no threat to us."

Quirrell smiled. "Ah, I'm not surprised that you would say that, but I did not say muggle, did I?"

Malfoy hesitated. "You said…"

"I said mundane. I did not say muggle. I will now demonstrate." Quirrell waved his wand and a conjured vase appeared on the desk. The man walked a dozen paces away so that his back was to the classroom wall. Another wand wave produced what looked like a small rock. One single, strong wand movement sent the rock shooting towards the vase, which smashed into dozens of pieces before vanishing into thin air.

She brought her arms down from where she'd protectively and automatically covered her head.

"Many of the threats you will face from wizards come in the form of non-magical objects enchanted to create physical force. These objects are not spells. They do not shoot at you with pretty lights like in a duel, but they are just as dangerous. A banished rock to the head will take you out just as surely as a stunner. Does that answer your question, Mister Malfoy?"

She looked around again. Malfoy nodded, eyes wide.

"Having said that…" Quirrell smirked, walked over to his desk and reached behind it to grab something. "There are some muggle threats-" her own eyes widened and her heart sped up. "-That you must also-" A hunting rifle came into view "-learn to deal with."

In front of her, harry had his wand pointed forward under his desk, a faint white light alight on its tip.

Quirrell walked forward, turned, conjured another vase, waved his wand once more, sheathed it in his robes, shouldered the gun, pointed it towards his desk with his back to the class, took aim and…

BANG! The vase exploded into a million pieces. What was left wasn't even recognisable as pottery.

Quirrell dropped the rifle to his side. "We won't be focusing on those threats, but do not forget that your studies into mundane defence against wizards also applies to muggles."

She shook. Voldemort knew about guns? Why didn't he use them then? Harry must know. She'd ask him when she next saw him.

"The first spell we will learn is a shield against physical projectiles found on page twelve of your textbook. You will pair off and practise casting the shield while the other lightly throws these buttons at each other." Quirrell held up a small bucket.

The class stared at him.

Quirrell looked around. "Go on! Get to it!"

The class scrabbled.

She turned. "Hey, Dean-"

"-C'mon, Dean." John grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him away.

The dark-skinned, possible muggleborn shot her an apologetic look before being lead away to the far side of the class-room by the fake boy who lived.

Hermione pouted.

...

Daphne marched towards the common room after dinner, intent on getting the just-handed-out defence essay out of the way. She needed all the brain space she could spare to tap dance around Granger being outed and she didn't need braindead simple academic assignments getting in the way. Beside her, Granger looked equally focused, muttering something about evil twins and what she'd like to do to them.

As they neared the portal to the Slytherin common room, Tracey appeared before them, panting and red-faced.

"Daph. Hermione." Tracey's heaved the words, low and urgent.

They stalled.

"I was just in the common room and there's a bunch of upper-year boys planning to put Hermione in the hospital wing. I just barely got away."

Oh hell.

Granger sucked in her breath.

"Volf put them up to it. He's leading."

"What about Blaise and our other allies?" she asked.

Tracey's eyes were wide and dilated. "Don't know where Blaise is." Tracey wrung her hands. "You know Flint?"

She nodded.

"He said that, 'If the little girl wants to keep a pet, she can take care of it.'"

She glanced at Granger. The witch's eyes had hardened.

Tracey continued. "That was the most extreme one I heard, but the feeling is about right. They're not happy. Most of the Grays who might help are in other houses. I think we're on our own on this one."

Damn. She took a breath and pulsed a few choice pulses into her silver lightning bolt ring. Granger already had her wand in hand, looking ready to storm the fort.

"Okay, I've sent the distress call. We should find a bathroom to hide away in until our lord can get here."

Hope bloomed on Tracey's face.

Granger snapped towards her. "But we can't run away! They'll think we're cowards. That we need protecting."

She flashed Granger an annoyed look. "They don't even know we're here. We can just enter a few moments before our lord and it will all be fine."

Tracey's face fell.

A shrill, nasal voice behind them, coming from the direction of the great hall, caused her to swing around, just as a slight figure raced past them.

"It's them! They're here!" Heiress Parkinson shot towards the portal and leapt through it.

Tracey groaned and double face-palmed. "And now?"

Her stomach dropped. She felt sick. She flicked her wrist and brought her wand to her hand. "Now we hold on as long as we can."

They waited a few moments where they were, staring at nothing in particular.

Then they walked to the portal, every step deliberate and slow. She put her hand on the door.

She waited a few more moments.

That was probably about as long as they could get away with. She looked towards her allies. Determination made its home in Granger's face. Tracey's lip quivered and her hands shook.

She gave a single slight nod, and pushed.

The common room was packed. Slytherins of all years filled the many chairs that furnished the wide and tall space of the dungeon. Many were laughing and joking. As one, all heads turned towards her.

She took several steps into the room, head held high, wand held tight. The portal slammed quietly behind her and two faint human-shaped shadows joined hers, stretching forward from the low-hung wall torches behind her.

....

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