19 July, 1995

Dear Severus,

          I'm not usually encouraged to practice sensible speech. I've always been told it makes me sound dull and gloomy, and I was constantly being called a patronising spoil-sport just for pointing out very minor problems like, "guys, I don't think you can cast a Can-Can Charm on Professor McGonagall right in the middle of Transfiguration class without her realising who did it". And sensible speech was even less welcome in detention, when I would shyly deliver an "I told you so" remark.

          I won't deny I was less than ideally responsible about my condition when I was younger. Exactly because I was younger, more daring and less thoughtful, surrounded by dear friends who were determined to make me loosen up and have a good time. There must be a balance somewhere between sense and fun, a way of being cautious without being dead. I hope I can find that balance. I hope you can too.

          Anyway, I don't think the scruples of the Dark Creatures have much to do with the survival of the Defence Against Dark Arts class. Werewolves don't need human flesh to survive. Kappas, on the other hand, don't last too long living solely off cucumbers; their need for human blood won't be sated by scruples.

          I do agree with you about my lessons having been deficient in defence against dark spells. Only sixth and seventh-years were instructed on those when I was there, and I felt that was a sad contrast to our time in school. To my surprise, only the fourth-years and above had more than a vague notion of duelling, for example.

          But the Headmaster had warned me that the teaching of DADA for the previous three years had been somewhat "wavering and turbulent"—those were his words—so the students, particularly the younger ones, were quite behind and needed proper instruction on Dark Creatures.

          On the other hand, I'm afraid defence against betrayal from deceptively unimpeachable sources has little to do with magic or anything I could teach. The only shield against betrayal I can think of is mistrusting all and everything. But look at all the good this philosophy did for Alastor Moody. Besides, when I look back, I sorely realise that just as much pain resulted from my trusting the wrong people as from my mistrusting people I should have showed more faith to.

          You're right, of course. The universe has very little understanding of fair play.

          Be that as it may, I'm relieved the universal game has put you and me on the same team for a change. Practicality or generosity, whatever your reasons are, I'm thankful for your help.

          Regarding the topic of "roses". I do not forget that James is viewed as a martyr by our community. It simply doesn't matter to me. He was a friend, he was family, he was real. I can't objectively judge if he deserves to be wept over in what you call "the most maudlin fashion". I can only think of all he did for me, of all I owe him and will never be able to repay. I can only think of how much I miss him. And of how he would probably be the first to protest that he never did anything to earn him a heroic reputation, except perhaps messing with the enchantment of the ceiling in the Great Hall so we all got to watch the 1978 League Cup finals between the Montrose Magpies and Falmouth Falcons during dinner.

          James was a joker. He couldn't stand people crying.

          As for Harry... I agree that teachers should treat him as any other student. I tried to. If I failed and let the fond memories of his father cloud my judgement, I'm the one to be criticised, not him. Of course it can't be healthy to keep him on a pedestal. But I wonder if sometimes you're not too harsh towards the boy in an attempt to "make up" for others who might favour him. Like a story from a book I read when I was a kid: a little girl had a father who scolded her for everything she did, and a mother who would forgive her every flaw; therefore she had absolutely no notion of right and wrong. I'm sure this is the last thing you'd want for Harry, isn't it?

          He is just a boy after all. And a boy needs to know there are adults nearby he can trust, and I doubt he'll feel comfortable relying on either sycophants or faultfinders.

          Concerning my canine companion. You didn't insist on that part of your argument, so I trust you no longer think he has the gift of being able to walk away unscathed and smelling like roses. After all, not only was his personal life ruined, but there's nobody around to put him on any pedestals, and no fan clubs to ask for his autographed photos.

          However, I won't argue that he can be a real nuisance.

          Maybe I should take the blame for this... incident, since I didn't warn you. I just thought you'd remember how he was in school and assume, since you tend to always assume the worst, that he's kept his bad habits, especially the most annoying ones, close to his heart.

          I mean, don't you remember how he would always try to find out what books you were reading or what essays you were writing when by chance we met you in the library? Don't you remember how he would do the same to practically every fellow there? Don't you remember how he was banned from the library for a month after peeking at Madam Pince's journal over her shoulder?

          I'm sure you do.

          Now couldn't you have remembered all that before bringing up your unsuccessful negotiations with the Fat Lady?

          Oh well, too late, I guess.

          Did you mention something about poisoned dog-biscuits?

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written by Morgan D.
May 3rd, 2003

All the characters mentioned above and the universe they dwell in are part of the Harry Potter novel series, copyrights belonging to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, and Merlin-knows-whom-else. The sole purpose of this fanwork is entertaining readers and myself while we all wait for the next book to be published.