For a moment, there was no reaction to that except a startled hush. Then a few whoops could be heard. And above that, the noise of Neville shouting as he stood up. Neville.
"What about Professor Snape, sir? Can't he keep teaching us?"
Once the sentiment had been voiced, a number of other students took up the cry, calling out that Snape was brilliant at Defence and had taught them a lot and could easily take over from Aran.
Hermione was nodding her agreement as she took a seat across from Harry.
It was too far to the head table for Harry to tell if his father was embarrassed by the outcry, but he thought Snape might be looking a little bit abashed.
Dumbledore let the protests go on for a moment longer, then held up his hand. "Ah, but Professor Snape has other obligations he must see to."
"Well, there goes our ice cream contest in Potions," said Ron, a little glumly. "Your dad'll come back and make us brew something ghastly to make up for the sweets, I bet. I'd rather have Snape teaching me Defence, any day of the week."
Harry smiled. "Yeah. Me too. But you know, the headmaster can't risk that. What if one week of him being the official teacher in that class somehow made the curse land on him?"
Ron made a face, but nodded.
Dumbledore seemed about to say something more, but a new noise had him closing his mouth. Clapping. Harry couldn't exactly see where it was coming from. Somewhere in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Thinking it a good idea, Harry began applauding vigorously as well. Several of the Gryffindors around him followed suit.
And then the noise of applause began to fill the Great Hall.
"Best duel I've ever seen!" yelled somebody near the back.
"Best Defence classes we've had since Professor Lupin was here!" a seventh-year farther down the table called out.
Snape had been looking a bit smug--just a bit--but that comment had him making a curt gesture in the headmaster's direction.
Dumbledore, however, let the clapping and comments continue for a moment more. Then he raised his hand again. "Yes, yes. Professor Snape has done a marvellous job, all around. But I have another announcement to make." He waited until the students had fallen silent. "This Wednesday afternoon, the last class of the day has been cancelled so that you can all be present, should you so wish, for the dedication of the latest addition to Hogwarts' art collection. In recognition of his many years of service as a school governor and his generous gifts to Hogwarts' endowment, we have invited Mr Lucius Malfoy here to witness his statue being dedicated out on the grounds."
Ron and Hermione caught Harry's eye, the look on their faces saying that they'd understood everything that hadn't been said. They knew the truth of what had happened in France, and what the "statue" really was. They also knew about Remus.
Harry felt a chill shiver its way up and down his arms. A horrible deep chill that seemed to go all the way down to bone. If only he had a needle, he could make the feeling go away--
He didn't have one, and he wasn't going to make one, either. Of course, he couldn't make one here, in front of his friends, let alone use it. But if he could just get a few minutes to himself, maybe on the way to Charms . . .
But no. Harry drew in a deep breath, determined. What was it that Marsha had said? To avoid situations that would allow him to return to his damaging behaviour. He'd stay with his friends. That way he wouldn't have a chance to make a needle. And besides, he'd only get them in trouble if he slipped away and Snape found out.
Not to mention the trouble he'd be in for failing to get Snape himself when his . . . urge struck. He wasn't going to disappoint his father again. Best to just tough it out, Harry decided.
Some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, he thought a moment later. Not that Hermione knew what to make of his expressions. "The headmaster said students could go to the statue dedication if they wished," she said quietly. "No-one would fault you for staying away from a thing like that, Harry."
Probably nobody would, but Harry still didn't want to be thought of as a coward. If he was going to be any kind of leader at all in the coming war, he couldn't give the impression now that he was afraid to face Lucius Malfoy. Besides, it wouldn't be Lucius Malfoy at the dedication ceremony, would it? It would be Remus, and Harry wanted to see how he was doing in his role of full-time spy.
"Draco'll be going and I need to be there for him," he said to explain.
Farther down the table, Dean leaned forward. "Why would your brother go?"
To see his mother, Harry thought. "To show Lucius he's not afraid."
Dean nodded and went back to peeling his banana.
Hermione pursed her lips. "I honestly think it might be best if Draco didn't go, Harry. How's he going to feel seeing . . . uh, Lucius after the things that man has done this year?"
How's he going to feel seeing Remus pretending to be Lucius, that was what she meant. And Hermione didn't even know the half of it. How was Draco going to put up with seeing Remus standing alongside his mother?
"He'll insist on going." Harry stood up, then, and grabbed his school bag from the floor. "Come on. Somebody walk me. Or has Charms been cancelled as well?"
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As it turned out, they did get to taste-test everyone's ice cream on Tuesday. Dumbledore was still teaching Potions class. Strange . . . Harry would have expected his father to have mentioned something the day before. With Harry living with him again, it wasn't like the man had had no opportunity to talk to him.
On the other hand, Snape had seemed awfully busy. He'd spent most of the previous evening holed up in his office, writing some long document. The same one he'd been working on before the duel, it looked like. Harry didn't know what it was about. Dumbledore might, though.
Half-way through trying out all the ice cream flavours, Harry wandered to the front where the headmaster was savouring a pink cone topped with the mango wafer flavour Seamus had made. "Sir? I sort of thought my dad would be back in here this week. You said so, in fact."
"Did I, my boy?" Dumbledore's beard bobbed up and down as his lips twitched with humour. "As I recall, I merely said he had obligations."
"You knew we thought that meant Potions."
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "And so it does, Harry. So it does. The Ministry has requested that the Severus advise them on changes they've proposed to portions of the N.E.W.T. level Potions examination. It seems they'd prefer to have more Auror applicants than previously."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "So they have finally figured out there's a war on."
"Yes, and as potion-making is not the primary task an Auror engages in . . ." The headmaster shrugged. "They're thinking that perhaps such a high level of expertise should not be required. Certainly, that it should not pose an insurmountable obstacle."
"They could always staff M.L.E. with wizards who are really great at potion-making. And the Aurors could go to them when they needed something really hard or specialised made."
"Except when in the field, of course."
"Well, yeah, but--" Harry stopped to think a minute. "Would Severus be willing to make his classes easier to match a new N.E.W.T., though? I can't really see him doing that."
"He's fighting pot and cauldron against any 'dumbing down' of the subject," said Dumbledore, nodding.
"What do you think, sir?"
"Oh, I can see both sides. More Aurors would be a positive benefit, and as things stand now, precious few young witches and wizards apply. Still, one does want them to have the skills they'll need to succeed, so . . ." Dumbledore lifted his shoulders. "I shudder to think what your father will say if he's asked to revise seven years worth of curricula downwards."