For problems: Attack the urgent, consider the important, ignore the rest.

- Lucius Malfoy, as told to Draco Malfoy (Age 9)

Just before sunrise Draco listened to Hogwarts coming alive.

(Hogwarts is not alive.)

Thousands of wizards and witches scattered around the world - but mostly in the UK - love Hogwarts dearly. They succumbed easily, often before their sorting. Riding in gondolas under the moonlight, stomachs knotted in excitement and dread, they'd glimpse the stonework for the first time and feel reassured by Hogwart's quiet majesty. Older students cheered their entrance, applauded their sorting, slapped their backs as they joined their future home. First Years loved everyone by the end of that feast. Soon enough they'd be disappointed, scolded, overworked, and betrayed. They'd run to class, dodging Peeves, fall asleep during lectures and get sent to detention. Reality intrudes and feelings complicate. If students had to assign an average feeling, they'd label it 'Good' but could rarely point to one person that made them feel consistently good. They felt a subconscious desire to assign the credit somewhere.

(Hogwarts is somewhere.)

Not all students instantly loved Hogwarts. Some required another year. Most succumbed eventually, and even if they considered their years a terrible experience, they blamed people. Severus Snape - wherever he was - loved Hogwarts. If they knew of it, Muggles would adore it and become enchanted (in all senses) by its ancient splendor and bewildering secrets. Hogwarts exasperated and intrigued and intoxicated those lucky Muggles on campus. They explored a strange old world ripped from children's fables only more fantastic.

Besotted sixth years often adopted the jaded pose typical of teenagers and denied their love. (Fifth years studied and crammed and what little time for love they possessed we will not discuss). But as inevitable as winter turning to summer some new wonder grasped their imagination and shook away false ennui. The wrong hallway could lead to a month long quest. Strolling outside could turn a warm spring day into a wondrous adventure with beasts unknown, or a legend believed mythical. Romance blooms rapidly in exciting times and Hogwarts adds zest to life, after a brief visit to Madam Pomfrey.

Foreigners express shock at the attendance of Hogwarts reunions, held during Summer Solstice. Those who attend, typically as 'plus-ones,' bask in the sheer joy expressed by the returning alumni. They listen to the stories, see the camaraderie. Guests search in vain for In Memoriam placards around the halls, or graveyards and mausoleums on the grounds. They wonder how Hogwarts banished almost all the ghosts. Durmstrang is more respected than beloved.

For his part, Harry Potter forgot all about Oxford once he stepped foot on Hogwarts. Oxford now reminded Harry of Geordi LaForge: talented, interesting, and a good man to have around. But you only listened to LaForge's stories out of politeness. He won't draw a crowd or get the green-skinned girl like Hogwarts did. (Harry had a complicated relationship with Spock). Potter respected the Next Generation, but classics endure.

Harry loved Hogwarts knowing he loved a system, not a creature. He knew Hogwarts didn't care, wasn't alive. He never projected emotions on it, except as linguistic shorthand. Not like his classmates. One march morning Harry lectured his fellow Ravenclaws about that mistake. Afterwards, Cho Chang pointed to Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres' receding form and solemnly intoned "That, fellow students, is a Dork. It may, at times, appear to have tact. But rest assured you are just projecting it onto him. A common fallacy."

Potter hadn't even pontificated much. Anthropomorphizing Hogwarts barely registered as a fallacy: it wasn't harmful like attributing meaning to a simple text program like ELIZA or believing in Muggle psychics. His halfhearted lecture stopped well short of his typical pedantry. Hogwarts stood – except for a few floating parts – uncaring. Harry knew that, but he suspected that Hogwarts (that name being shorthand for the amazingly complex magical system designed by the Founders) did help those who roamed its halls.

Why else had Salazar laid down secret paths? Surely not to trap his students. Rowena had strewn puzzles to be found and solved, not to be ignored. Godric scattered magical traps to be avoided and duels to be defeated. And it just seemed like Helga Hufflepuff's style. The Founders hid treasures behind apparently fearsome obstacles that rarely did permanent damage (as wizards counted these things). They'd bequeathed Hogwarts, their glorious clockwork sanctum, a bewildering array of enchantments. And those enchantments changed. Just last summer a staircase that rose from West to East every Tuesday for as long as anyone could remember (except during New Moons, when it lilted slightly to the North-East and turned into a water slide) suddenly rotated into southerly facing trampoline and added a wading pool.

Hogwarts mutated according to some set of complex and contradictory rules that changed over the years, as the Founders intended. Hermione, in an mild debate with Harry in early August, pointed out that a system that had goals, acted on them, and evolved might not be biologically active, but the word 'Alive' seemed to apply. She'd eventually left angry, pointing out that Harry Potter had finally reconciled creationism with evolution.

Harry conceded the point (but only silently, to himself) and spent his spare time coaxing secrets from these halls to unwind after the frustrations of the day and renew his sense of wonder.

Harry knows love makes people irrational.

Harry believed in Hogwarts (the system) because true learning happens outside classrooms. Experience and enthusiasm trump rote lectures and the Founders knew that. So Harry Potter believed that indifferent, dead Hogwarts existed as a complex educational system. He was hardly the first to come to that conclusion. Most Headmasters grasped this eventually. Albus PWB Dumbledore understood well before assuming that mantle. Tom Riddle knew the truth and Quirinus Quirrell based his pedagogy on that insight.

While Draco spent those pre-dawn hours reconsidering and agonizing, Minerva McGonagall started learning this lesson.

Last January a lovestruck student discovered a single passenger dirigible. It showed up on a fairly predictable schedule, provided you knew a smattering of Mermish. On those nights it appeared it drifted towards music. One admittedly precarious jump from an 8th floor window near his bed would see our fifth year Ravenclaw safely in the basket undercarriage and then whisked to a secluded parapet in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. Over the summer he'd gathered his courage and made arrangements, pleased at his cleverness. This route avoided nosy prefects and hallways patrolled by Argus Filch (who had been hired back on over the summer, much to the chagrin of all the students).

He'd studied the patterns, perfected his whistling, and plotted the astronomical charts. He'd double checked the dates: balloon would drift by at 1am the first night of school. He'd hadn't realized the tiny red zeppelin only followed its assigned course if the basket was empty.

At 2am Hagrid, out searching for a wounded Hippogriff he'd seen from time to time, noticed an Acromantula web stretched between treetops. He'd politely asked why it was there. Aragog ominously answered "Breakfast," but by then Hagrid heard the boy's cries and untangled him while fending off famished spiders with a pink umbrella.

And so, at 3am, Headmistress McGonagall lectured the unfortunate boy and assigned one weeks detention helping Hagrid, who'd agreed to repair the web in an effort to smooth over the incident.

Seeing no chance of getting any more sleep, she'd made a cup of tea while despairing about the students in her charge. The trick was to lean on the undercarriage railing, which had seemed obvious to her back in her sixth year. That propelled the balloon in the opposite direction for some reason. Her thoughts drifted while she sipped her tea, wondering what she'd ever seen in the rotund, balding, and utterly boring Undersecretary of Charms and Curses.

Draco hadn't heard that adventure, just some trees rustling that he thought was just the wind. But by five am the gentle grinding of staircases announced the start of the day, and Draco Malfoy decided he might as well get up. After getting dressed Draco slipped out the door, diary in hand, to do some research in the remaining hours before breakfast.

The first years fell silent as Draco strode into the lecture hall with Hermione and Harry Potter. They'd agreed to enter as a group after everyone was seated. Waiting looked unimpressive - unless you suddenly snapped out of a catatonic state - and they needed to signal authority. Professor Lockhart, newly appointed Head of House Gryffindor, stood behind the professor's desk next to an empty leather seat. Draco and his fellow generals walked in front of the desk. Once again Draco reflected that he hadn't looked nervous on his first day of class, one long year ago.

They'd come straight from breakfast to teach the first class of the year. ("Learning how to think precedes learning what to do," Harry Potter had explained to the Headmistress, who had sighed and re-arranged the schedules several weeks ago).

"We are Generals Granger, Potter and Malfoy." Draco said, indicating each in turn and bowing slightly at his own name. The class murmured, not all of them knew some classes would be taught by students. Many pointed at Hermione and whispered. Colin Creevey was pointing to Hermione and gesturing, but the nearby students ignored him. A few less pointed to Harry Potter and barely anyone talked about Draco.

"No talking!" said Lockhart to immediate effect. Draco continued, while Potter surreptitiously reviewed his notes.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts, and welcome to class. For centuries, until last year, this class was known as 'Defence Against the Dark Arts.' An appropriate name, although for years our instructors only pretended to teach that subject. Last year's Defence Professor, Quirinus Quirrell, actually taught us. We learned, as you will learn, how to defend ourselves. Professor Quirrell sat in that chair behind me slowly dying with an illness. Outside of classes he could barely move. But he taught vigorously and he taught us well."

Professor Lockhart nodded approvingly.

Hermione continued "Professor Quirrell, also known as David Monroe, named the class and the lessons he covered 'Battle Magic.' He broke tradition in many ways, adding the armies we Generals led as a new feature. He taught us how to fight. He taught us how to win. I can't describe how much I learned and how much fun I had. Today, you get the chance. I suggest you sign up for the first year armies."

Hermione cocked her head and continued, "Because without Professor Quirrell's training, I stood no chance against the troll that killed me."

Lockhart made no attempt to silence the class this time.

Harry Potter spoke over them. "Professor Quirrell taught us that trolls are the third most perfect killing machine in nature. General Granger would have defeated the troll but what she didn't know - what nobody knew - is that she was actually fighting the most perfect killing machine of a generation. Voldemort sent the troll."

Some students gasped at the name. Harry had started shakily, but he'd gotten the rhythm and had the full attention of the class.

"Voldemort sabotaged her weapons. Hermione Granger would have escaped, except for Voldemort's interference. She had learned enough to survive a mere troll."

Draco continued without pause.

"General Potter killed the troll. Later Professor Quirrell, despite being near death, fought Voldemort to a standstill. General Ganger's aid was enough to tip the balance and defeat him."

It was Hermione's turn.

"Make no mistake. You won't know enough to defeat an adult Dark Wizard this year. I didn't. Even weakened, Voldemort killed dozens of wizards. Dark wizards are dangerous, and it takes decades to achieve enough power to match them. Few do. I took advantage of lucky circumstances in that Battle. Voldemort's ritual weakened him, Professor Monroe's attack wounded him further, and I caught him by surprise."

Harry Potter continued. "You could say she got lucky. But plenty of people have opportunities. It's not sufficient to be lucky. You need to seize your luck, recognize it and act. The best way to win a battle, to win decisively, is overwhelming force. Unless you are a powerful Wizard or Witch, you won't have it. If you are weaker, the easiest way to win is to take the initiative and do the unexpected."

He nodded to Draco, who hid his annoyance. Draco Malfoy did not forget lines or miss his cue.

"Professor Quirrell was the greatest Slytherin of our generation. We honour his sacrifice. His empty chair sits watching over future classes. He didn't respect tradition but I think he'd approve this one. He'd approve students teaching each other in the lecture halls, just as we taught ourselves on the battlefield."

"Welcome," said Hermione Granger, "to your first lecture in 'Offense Against the Dark Arts.'"

"Take out your wands. Our first spell is Mahasu," said Harry Potter as the globes descended from the ceiling.

The first years chatted excitedly as they poured out of the lecture Hall. Professor Lockhart returned from the back room and greeted the trio. "Well done, excellent poise and an important lesson. I know I hadn't learned those skills until I had been out of school at least a decade. I worry my lecture will seem dull," he said, flashing them all a smile.

2nd year Defence classes had posed a problem. Last year Professor Quirrell had effectively taught first year classes to each grade. The older students hadn't needed targeting spells to gain confidence; older students cast more powerful spells than even Draco knew, but they'd spent years thinking of Defence Class in a totally different way. So Professor Quirrell covered many of the same lessons for each year. He hadn't done the exact same lectures, in the exact same order. Part of his special talent involved grasping the mood of a room, understanding where he stood, and what his young apprentices did (or, more typically, did not) understand, and explaining.

Draco envied that talent.

In reviewing Professor Quirrell's notes the Generals discovered that even N.E.W.T. classes had started from roughly the same position as they had. Older students had progressed faster since the Professor wasted less time teaching spells. But he'd lost time helping them unlearn bad habits picked up from prior teachers. In some ways, Dragon, Chaos and Sunshine armies had demonstrated Quirrell's pedagogy best. Which left the question – How to follow up? All Generals across the years had roughly the same grasp of strategy. If Percy Weasley's army fought Diggory's the elder students would have an advantage, but that was just the natural consequence of magic increasing with age. Why should 3rd years respect a 4th year lecturer, when they knew the same thing? In under a decade the problem would solve itself but right now there was effectively one first year class and six second year classes.

An authority figure seemed necessary, at least to get things started.

Draco sat in the same seat he'd used last year. Gregory sat down next to him as other students arrived. People gravitated to the seats they'd used last year but the resorting made for some awkward situations. Harry sat in Vincent's old seat.

"I thought you skipped ahead," Gregory asked, leaning across Draco to whisper conspiratorially.

"I'm curious. I want to hear this."

Vincent sat next to Neville. The Hufflepuff group had no infighting over seats, unlike other houses.

Draco felt grateful the classes occurred in order. Being able to just wait a few minutes between lectures saved him an extra trek to and from Offense, which would have eaten into his already full schedule even more. Draco, Harry and Hermione had agreed to split teaching duties after the introductory lecture. Harry would teach Wednesday's class and figure out who the most dangerous students were. Hermione's lessons focused on mechanics, helping students learn spells.

Draco, the only Wizard-born General of the year, would lead after-action discussions and draw comparisons to prior battles (mock battles in school and historical battles) and cover the history of Battle Magic. He was also in charge of quashing inter-army fights, making sure battles didn't stray off the field. (Quirrell hadn't cared about that. Unsanctioned battles occurred roughly weekly from Fall until the Abolition of the Houses and current fourth years aligned more by armies than houses. A true mess).

Professor Lockhart put his wand to his throat, said Sonorus, and his voice echoed throughout the room.

(Nobody knew exactly how Professor Quirrell's small pedagogical charms worked. The giant viewing screen for watching battles was well known, but his small personal screens and audio/visual system appeared to be unique. Quirrell's notes only listed spells taught, not spells used. Professor Flitwick had struggled over cryptic handwritten references for the entire summer. Harry Potter dropped his investigation after a week, once he considered his own sense of humor, and urged Flitwick to let the matter rest).

"Good morning. I am Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, your occasional lecturer during Offense against the Dark Arts. And I want you to know – I am a fraud." Harry sat up straight. Draco, already somewhat tired from his sleepless night, woke up fully. The class hadn't seemed bored, more wary, but now they were all listening intently.

"Why, just last night our Sorting Hat warned you not to trust someone just because they seem confident. Oh, I've achieved some items of note and minor glory. I've fought terrifying creatures. I've fought a Krogan and they are dangerous, believe me. You don't want to get ambushed by a Krogan. But then, you don't want to get ambushed by anything."

The class laughed. Professor Lockhart shrugged.

"But I've never fought a Dark Wizard. Just pests. Your Professor rightly mocked minor pests. I suppose for a Wizard of his calibre they are all minor. Personally, I steer clear of Hungarian Horntails. For lesser wizards such as myself and dare I say you, major pests exist. I pride myself a pest control expert so I doubt Professor Quirrell would have much use for me. He'd consider me a fraud."

"Oh yes, I know of his lectures. 'The only thing you have to fear is a Dark Wizard.' I suppose that's true, but I spoke to Miss Granger. That troll terrified her. Maybe you shouldn't be afraid, but that won't help you when the fear comes. And it does come, even for brave Gryffindors like myself. Or Miss Granger now, I suppose."

The Gryffindors cheered, but Professor Lockhart cut them off with a wave of his hand. Tracey Davis mock whispered "Where is she, anyway?" to Harry Potter, who shrugged. Lockhart turned to her.

"One point from Slytherin. Where was I? Ah ... 'One killing curse will bring it down.' A good rule, if you know the Killing Curse or any other suitable curses I'll teach. Perhaps I should have used a Killing Curse when I encountered a Geeger. It stands seven feet tall, strong enough to lift you off your feet and rip you in half. I've seen one stab its razor sharp tail clean through a man's chest, but I was lucky. I saw it. The Geeger is pitch black and almost impossible to spot although not technically invisible. In a darkened forest, you could pass feet from one and think it part of a tree if you noticed it at all. And they often perch in trees, or lurk in caves. Their teeth..."

He trailed off for a second, eyes distant in memory, then recovered.

"Anyway, one killing curse will indeed bring it down. And then it will explode, splattering those nearby with its blood. There are only a dozen uses for Dragon's Blood, but I can personally imagine hundreds of uses for Geeger blood. If only it didn't burn through anything in seconds. If you do use a Killing Curse on that nasty beast, you must be at a safe distance. Actually, always keep your distance."

He paused and stared around the room.

"While scanning for Geegers, make sure the tree itself isn't a Triffid. Easy enough to avoid, Triffids, but if you stumble onto one it may drain your blood or even bite your limbs clean off. You needn't even Apparate away from one. A few steps will suffice. It can be brought down by a single curse, even inflammare. No need to get fancy.

"Or consider the Iudices. This creature looks like a tall, well dressed, smiling man. They don't fly so much as float. Grinning like a hyena Iudices stalk their prey at the speed of a brisk walk. You'll need a few killing curses as they travel in packs. You'll also need to be able to cast them wordlessly, since they steal the speech of their intended victims. They' cut your heart out with a knife and cook it, while you scream without making a sound.

"Monachiko Dolofonous disguise themselves as statues. They move so quickly they could cross this lecture hall in the blink of an eye. So fast you'll never see one move. They are vulnerable to killing curses. Any one of the suits of armor you pass along the hallway could have been a Monachiko. But which statute? How to know? An Aliquid has no true form. It assumes yours after digesting you. It speaks with the voice of the deceased and retains its victims memories. The student sitting next to you could be one, right now. They are vulnerable to practically any spell except Diffindo. They don't transfigure exactly like a troll, but each limb retains the ability to move and an admirably murderous instinct even when hacked apart. Even if its no match for a Dark Wizard such as himself, Professor Quirrell unjustly slighted this creature when he made his list. I'd rank Aliquids well above Dementors. You always know when a Dementor is nearby.

"A few years ago an expedition of Aurors disappeared in South America. The only survivor raved wildly that the jungle itself attacked them; one Wizard a day, killing them and then skinning them. After the second day they Apparated away. It, or something like it, tracked them down to the village they'd gone to. The villagers found the skin. I happened to be in Argentina and they kindly asked for my expertise. I knew it wasn't an Aliquid since those consume the skin, leaving no trace, and do not track victims. In fact, I could quickly deduce that it was none of the monsters I've mentioned or that you'll find in any of your textbooks.

"I declined to investigate. Some pests terrify me. So, what do I have left to teach you?"

Students shifted around. Several were still inspecting their neighbors, trying to determine if any Aliquids lurked nearby.

"I am new to public speaking and teaching, but my question was not rhetorical. What do I have left to teach you?"

Draco doubted the first part. The ironic admission of fraud gave it away. Lockhart may be self taught, but he'd grabbed Draco's attention with his easy charisma and confidence. Most students looked towards Potter and Malfoy. Harry Potter smirked, folded his arms in front of himself and tightened his lips. Draco followed suit.

"Your Generals expect you to fight your own battles, this time. Well now," he pulled a looking glass out of a cape pocket and, looking through it, read off the name. 'Mr. Weasley?'"

"I dunno. All about those creatures, I guess?" Draco stifled a chuckle, and then a yawn. It had been a long night.

"That I will most definitely teach. It is my area of expertise, after all. What general point was I making, Mr. Weasley? What can I teach you that Quirrell didn't?"

The red-haired boy blushed. Professor Lockhart sighed and swung the looking glass across the audience. "Miss Abbott?"

"Uh, Pests are dangerous?"

"An obvious point. One that Quirrell knew even though he minimized their danger as a teaching example. I suppose you are correct, so let me digress. 'One killing curse will bring it down.' But you didn't learn the killing curse. Your lessons from last year emphasized two things. Efficiency and intent to do violence. Reflect on my pests. A Dark Wizard may be the most dangerous creature in the world, but none of those horrors I've describe lack murderous intent. They murder Wizards and do it quite well. None cast charms, but all possess innate magic and at least a low cunning, if not actual intelligence. But that was not my lesson, just examples. As I've said, I've personally never fought a Dark Wizard."

Professor Lockhart returned the looking glass to his pocket. As Lockhart drew his hand out Draco noticed the wand and then Harry's movement startled Draco who looked over at Potter bolting and Draco woke fully up while Gregory shouted and Potter dove towards the floor behind Padma Patil and Pansy Parkinson and only then did Draco dive and he glanced up and saw...

Lockhart's wand centered on him.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Draco Malfoy hit the ground, unconscious. A second later Professor Lockhart's shields flared and sparked but easily absorbed the scattered charms fired at him. Lockhart calmly put his wand away and took out his looking glass.

"Very good. Two Quirrell points each to, let's see ... Mr. Longbottom, of course. Miss Patil. Mr. Crabbe. Miss Patil? Two of you, and in different houses? Oh, that will cause confusion. Mr. Zabini. Miss Abbott. I'm rather surprised I don't have to award you points, Mr. Potter. You had your wand out fast and dodged easily enough."

Harry Potter had, by this time, carefully stepped over the body of Draco Malfoy and returned to his seat. The entire time he kept his wand raised high, practically at the level of his eye, pointed at Professor Lockhart. He slowly lowered it to point at Draco.

"Enervate"

Harry helped Draco back to his chair. "You weren't attacking us, so much as proving a point."

Professor Lockhart nodded. "You withheld fire on gut instinct? Professor Quirrell would not approve. But I do. At least, when I am the target. Mr. Potter gets two points for grasping the point I clearly failed to teach. And I owe Mr. Malfoy an opportunity. He would have undoubtedly fired if I had shot anyone else. Just a touch slow, but better than his defenders. Mr. Malfoy, what do I have left to teach you?"

Draco had been rubbing the small bump on his forehead that threatened to grow, and had amplified the ringing in his head.

"How to recognize when we are in a fight."

Professor Lockhart nodded and turned to the rest of the class, after one last glance at Harry Potter.

"Five points for being correct and as way of apology. Last year you fought at a set time and place, when a bell sounded. You fought well but in my personal experience wizards rarely announce their intent to attack. Creatures never line up for battle. Pests do sometimes sound a bell ... to those who know what to listen for. You must learn to recognize when you are in danger. For magical beasts, learn the signs. It's easy spotting murderous intent one second too late. So recognize the early signs. Professor Quirrell knew this. But he only had so much time. It's a complicated subject."

"Some final points. The reason I declined to investigate that creature in South America was that it clearly had murderous intent and I had no earthly idea what I was dealing with. If I had investigated, maybe I would have discovered what it was, but I feared I would find myself in Mr. Malfoy's position. Remember that. I will also award several points to any students who put forth a plausible theory by next lecture and if I think you are actually right...well, I don't expect that to happen but I will try to think of a fitting reward."

Normally students would be packing, once a Professor started summing up. Some had taken out scrolls and scribbled down quick notes.

"Dark Wizards are rare, subtle ones practically mythical. Be thankful. Imagine if Voldemort could have held his temper in check or Grindenwald hadn't openly plunged the world into war? Pests hide when they feel vulnerable or to sneak up on you. If you know what you face, the danger diminishes. Just like Dark Wizards.

"Finally, in the future I will deduct one Quirrell point from anyone laughing about ambushes. Now, let us turn our attention to the variety of shield spells..."

Author's Note - An early post, since I have finished this and got a few other draft chapters done this weekend. I realized later that I could have posted this in three small chunks relatively easily. It would take me equally long to write this but would people rather see 3 small updates or a big one (assuming the final update took place on the same day?) Let me know.

Next update - Early next week I have some travel between now and then, but I believe I will be able to change back to a more aggressive schedule soon enough (except that I have further travel this summer).

I would be remiss if I didn't credit Ginny Weasley and the Sealed Intelligence for making me believe that G.L. could be an interesting character. (I have not in fact finished it, although I did get as far as the first defence lecture before I decided to greatly reduce my reading of HPMOR fan fiction).

I also now remember that Draco had a private room in the original work (HPMOR Ch 98). Oh well. I'm sticking with my version.