I'M SO SOOOORRRRRYYYYYY! DOOONNN'TT EAATTT MEEEE! I swear it was the ALIENS! They GOTTT me! And probed all the HnM ideas out of me! BLAME THEM! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Anywhoosle, I'd like to thank my reviewers! xD I don't deserve you all! ./sniffles in a corner about being such a non-updating biyatch/

Darkrose Dragonkin, myself xDDD, yamisgirl13, yuri sasou, Miriku-Yami's Queen of the Nile-Yami no Hikari, Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, Kitroku, Tira's Host, The Insane Imortal Dragon, Twin Tails Speed, Crazy Hyper Lady, Hedwig the MilleniumOwl, kirallie, Isis the Sphinx, and Bakura'sLoyalServant

Kirallie: Well, I guess they would, but it /is/ disassembled, so there may be less magic radiating from it, compared to when it's put together.

Bakura'sLoyalServant: Chapter after next. 8D …I think. O.o And Baku-Baku hasn't stolen it because 1) he doesn't know who has it, and 2) he's good now. xD Yay for protagonist Bakura!

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/-Bakura-/
/Ryou/
--Marik--
-Malik-

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Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to Hedwig the MilleniumOwl and her very own raccoon panda thingy, Pwn! C().()O …Erk… I'm sure the eyes aren't going to show up (damn FF story formatting…), but they're those uber cute up arrow things that you can make with the shift and 6 keys. She's reviewed all seven chapters (even the ebil third chapter /gasp of doom/), each making me laugh. She's even created her own raccoon panda thingy! Hail it!

Also, kudos to Isis the Sphinx, who has decided to WRITE A FIC ON THE SHADOW WARS. OMFG. XDDD So go read it, 'cause it's already out! ./glomp/ And she's also kicked my sorry arse back into HnM-writing-gear. Thank her, because if she hadn't, I would've just let this story rot for another year… /whistles innocently/

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Dumbledore didn't know what to expect, but he was sure there would be some sort of uproar. Imagine his surprise. With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms to take another long swig of tea as the four men before him began to spaz out again.

-Teachers? Us?- The very thought of teaching kids- wizards of all people- was laughable. In fact, Malik did give a little snort of laughter.

Ryou smiled ruefully. /It would be sort of nice, though. Teaching kids, assigning work, giving out punishments…/

Bakura shook his head. /-What are we going to teach them? How to summon a dragon? We know nothing of these people's magic. What help would we be in teaching?-/

/That is an issue/ Ryou agreed. /We'll have to ask Albus./ "Sir?"

Dumbledore looked up from his shriveled hand (which he had been examining while our heroes had been conversing).

"We were talk- uh, no. I was thinking, what would we teach to the students? We aren't familiar with your branch of magic, and I doubt parents would want their children learning how to summon 'evil monsters' from the 'Shadows.' What could we possibly teach?"

"And I'm not revealing those secrets to some obnoxious little snot-nosed brats," Marik stated stubbornly. (I get the feeling that neither Baku nor Marik likes kids…)

"But kids are the future," Ryou recited.

"Screw the kids."

"Ew, no. I don't know what you do in your free time, but I'm no crazy pedophile…"

Malik and Ryou stared at their respective yamis with wide eyes. "I…see…"

Dumbledore seemed as though his hearing had given way during that small lapse of time in which Marik and Bakura were talking about. He continued without missing a beat. "Yes, I have added that to my list of flaws in my plan, but with it comes a rather elementary solution. Perhaps you could disguise- fake, even- your magic. Stupefy, for example, stuns someone into unconsciousness. Perhaps you could say the spell, make the wand movements, but use the shadows to knock your opponent out." Dumbledore stopped to let the information sink in.

Ryou nodded to the elder man- a gesture goading him to continue.

"Of course, this is an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class- if I hadn't mentioned that, please excuse me- and would deal with more…practical sessions. As I was explaining earlier, Voldemort has yet again risen to power. The students should be able to protect themselves if their wands were to ever leave their grasps. They have been taught spells and incantations that won't work right without a wand or severe training in wandless magic. They need a sort of 'demonstrative experiment.' With your experience, I'm sure they'll at least gain some speed, judgment, common sense, and other things through your classes."

"You do understand," Ryou said after a moment of silence, "that you're creating yourself a student-comprised army? We teach physical things, such as dodging or planning out strategies while your normal Defense Against…the Dark Arts, right?…professor preaches of spells. It's dangerous to get minors involved in war, Albus. You know as well as we do."

"It wouldn't be the first time an army made up of students was established at Hogwarts…" Dumbledore spoke jovially to himself in a knowing whisper. "But I am not creating an army," he said aloud. "The students will neither be sent to fight nor sent to make meticulous plans of Voldemort's demise. They will be taught the right defense, and when Voldemort strikes, only the stupid, foolish, stubborn, and hard-headed students will dare to retaliate."

Ryou still looked dubious. Malik looked frustrated- at both the situation and the headmaster. Bakura looked all spazzy because he was sifting through Ryou's memories and reliving the story of Voldemort and Potter. Marik looked surprisingly strained, seeing that he was trying to recall a memory that had been locked away a good number of weeks prior.

Something about Voldemort… The name was so familiar… And it reminded him of the nameless Puzzle-holder… There was a connection. Some sort of connection…

Dumbledore was speaking again. "You must understand why this subject is named Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lord Voldemort is on the prowl, eliminating anything in his way, and torturing anyone caught in the middle. Hogwarts has the reputation of a prestigious school of learning and magic- not to mention its infamous reputation to be the safest place in Europe, save Gringotts, of course. We not only want to preserve that, but to strengthen it." The old man sighed, as if knowing he was nowhere near to convincing the warriors into a job.

"What can I do or say to make you trust me?"

Bakura stared at Dumbledore, his scarlet eyes scrutinizing. "You're not telling us the truth. I can tell you're hiding something from us. I want to know everything. You have told us of Voldemort and Harry, and all that savior crap, but you haven't told us anything else. I'm sure as hell you didn't get that burnt hand making cookies for your little good two-shoes students."

Dumbledore matched Bakura's gaze, his unnaturally sparkling blue eyes no longer filled with their old patience. "Mr. Bakura," he spoke, resorting to the old habit he used with students: the use of 'Mr./Ms.' before their last name. "What happened to me is of no importance to my story. This injury is nothing but a spell gone awry." The old man disliked lying, but he couldn't risk revealing the one strategy he had against Voldemort to men who were still terribly skeptical and reluctant to take the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.

Bakura's eyes flashed and his brows twitched. "You're lying. You're lying, you useless old man!" the albino snapped harshly, standing abruptly from his chair and banging his fisted hands onto the table.

"Yami!" Ryou chided, pulling on his dark's hair. "You sit down and shut up!"

Bakura growled and glared at Dumbledore icily, but complied with his hikari's order. I still don't trust you, old man. I'll find out what you're hiding…

Malik shook his head. "If we teach the students anything practical, wouldn't they grow egotistical? They would believe they were invincible and go out like little blobs of ignorance, as if they were bulletproof and packed with grenades."

Ryou nodded his concurrence and stared Dumbledore in the eye. "I'd hate to decline your most gracious offer," he spoke, carefully choosing his words in the politest way he could muster, "But…"

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"Am not a little blob of ignorance," Harry thought aloud indignantly, not bothering to listen to the rest of the conversation. He, like the selfless hero he was, had decided to eavesdrop; the loud, abrupt accusation that Dumbledore was a useless old liar had caught his attention and curiosity.

A muffled, British-tinged voice wafted through the door, but it was very quiet; Harry could hardly understand what was being said. He sighed and strained his ears.

There was the faint sound of footsteps approaching him, and Harry only just managed to rip his ear away before the door slid open.

"Ah… I didn't hear anything!" Harry supplied hastily, getting up off his knees. His sheepish grin and guilty way of staring at the ground quickly gave away the lie. "…Okay, well I did. But it wasn't much!"

Dumbledore dismissed his explanation with a nonchalant wave of his uninjured hand. "It's quite all right, Harry, but next time, do try to control your curiosity."

"Yes, sir."

Ryou, the nice, white-haired one, appeared not too long after the Headmaster, smiling politely at them both. "Albus, Harry, let me accompany you to the door."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said as he gathered his things.

Ryou turned around, only to see no one behind him. He blinked and his eyes grew wide with laughter. "Well, you can't call me professor just yet, Harry. We still haven't decided whether or not we want the job."

"Oh." Harry, who was feeling someone bordering embarrassment and stupidity, felt himself flush madly. "Sorry."

Dumbledore's eyes shone in amusement. "Not to worry, Harry. We'll convince them otherwise someday." He sent a smile in Ryou's direction, one that the British-Japanese man reluctantly returned. "Now about that door."

Ryou nodded and smiled naturally, a rather relieved air surrounding his features. "Right this way."

As the three ventured off, Dumbledore turned to Harry and spoke.

"One more stop," he informed him conversationally, "until you're back with the Weasleys, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Where are we going?"

"To visit an old friend of mine. I plan to offer him the Potions position."

"Potions?" It took a while for the word to sink in. "You mean…the job is open? Did Snape finally give up and leave the school?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the wistfulness in his voice. "No, Harry. It's still 'Professor Snape' to you. I'm the one who's given up. I've given Severus the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Harry was silent for a moment – "…" – before exploding: "WHAT?"

Dumbeldore chuckled again.

"But if Sna- I mean, Professor Snape- is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, why did we need to come here?" Harry questioned.

"What I had wanted Mr. Ryou and his companions to teach was a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class, one where its students would learn the more physical facets of defense. Sadly, they had refused and now your class are mandatory."

"Now they're mandatory? You mean they were never before?"

"They were in past years, but this year would be different. If Mr. Ryou and his companions had taken the job, then you could have chosen between the two classes."

Harry was horrified. He didn't know what was worse: the fact that Snape was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, or the fact that he could have been Snape-free, only to have it taken away.

It was a tie.

Ryou, who somehow sensed the horror on Harry's face, laughed good-naturedly and glanced at them shortly. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure Snape-san can't be that bad. He must know more about your Dark Arts than us, anyway."

"But Snape is a student-hating git whose only reason in existence to make our lives a living hall!" Harry blurted out in horror. He shut his mouth and felt his eyes widen considerably. Turning his neck to the side and cricking it up, the emerald-eyed boy glanced at Dumbledore.

Said Headmaster was staring up at the ceiling with great interest and twiddling his thumbs, just like that time in Hagrid's cabin when Harry had been badmouthing Rita Skeeter. Harry thought of this as an okay to continue speaking, and so he did.

"He's terribly biased, and is out to get anyone who isn't in his own slimy House. He practically wants me to get expelled because of a grudge he still has over my father a whole bunch of years ago, and he won't wash his greasy hair." Harry had no idea where the last part came from, but he sure meant it.

"Oh dear. Sounds terrible."

There was a click and a noise Harry found familiar. He looked up.

They had reached the door.

"Good luck with Snape-san, Harry." The almost-albino smiled broadly at him, the door wide open for their exiting needs.

"Eh…thanks."

"Good-bye, Ryou. I assume we'll be seeing you up at the Headmaster's table for dinner on September the first?" Dumbledore seemed to have lost his interest in the ceiling.

Ryou's chocolate brown eyes clearly read 'Not bloody likely,' but he only smiled again, his eyes closing to create the perfect stereotypical image of a happy Asian. (EEEEEEEE! I love it when he smiles like that. xDDD) "We'll see, Albus." And with that, he kindly ushered them out and closed the door.

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/-Ryou, come into the sitting room for a sec, yeah?-/

/Yami? Eh…okay./

Ryou left the door and meandered through several rooms, into the sitting room, where Malik, Marik, and Bakura all stood, looking strangely somber.

"What's wrong?" Ryou asked warily, cautious of their tamed behavior.

"This." Malik approached Ryou slowly, his vibrant lavender eyes closed. He extended his arm and opened his fisted hand.

In the middle of the Egyptian's bronzed palm sat an eye, its lifeless black center staring straight at Ryou forbiddingly.

All Ryou could do was stare back.

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Once Harry had reached the Burrow, he was stuffed with bread and soup and rushed upstairs to Fred and George's room. He thought he would have gladly welcomed sleep, but his bustling mind seemed to ward it away like that one bugger of a knight (Sorry mates, I lost my HP-PoA book and I can't remember his name. xD Sir C...something. xD You know who I'm talking about. /grin/) would to innocent people walking by his portrait. Perhaps his head was too riled up with life-altering information he had learned just an hour or two ago.

For one thing, he had learned that he could have had some rather interesting, young Japanese men as his 'practical' Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. But they didn't want the job, so he was…stuck with Snape (here, he had cringed to himself and Hedwig had hooted comfortingly, trying to console him). Also, during his time sitting in their sitting room, he had received a bundle of 'Duel Monsters' cards that supposedly 'helped stop evil from taking over the world.' You couldn't blame him for being at least a little excited at that.

For another thing, he had also met his new Potions teacher. Horace Slughorn was a generously proportioned, generously aged man who had worked at Hogwarts alongside Dumbledore at one point in the past. He also seemed to have a fetish for 'collecting' bright young witches and wizards, teaching them, setting up connections for them when they got older, and then receiving things from them when they succeeded in life. He may or may not have had a thing for his mother, but Harry was still wary on that subject.

Of course, the large man (who was an armchair the first time Harry laid sight upon him) had tried to wheedle his way out of the job, for fear of being targeted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but Harry – although he didn't quite know how – had managed to cajole him into taking the position.

So Harry's head buzzed as he lay in bed. He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about his day, but this proved to be futile when his eyelids decided to flutter back up on their own accord. He sighed, not feeling the nimble fingers of fatigue try to snatch him into its grasp. He knew he shouldn't try to force sleep onto himself; it had never worked before.

So what to do in the meantime?

He grinned and nearly laughed out loud. The Puzzle, of course! He quietly slipped out of bed, unbolted the lock to his trunk, and pulled out the golden Puzzle box. It seemed to glow with an ethereal light in the darkness of the twins' room as he brought it back with him to the warm sheets of his bed. Pulling the treasure out by means of the silver chain connected to the top/innermost piece, he emptied out the rest of the stray pieces onto the comforter. They tumbled out, clinking cheerfully against each other on their way down, but making no noise once they hit the eiderdown.

Harry held the hoary chain up to his eyes, taking in the structure of what he had already put together. The square part of the Puzzle, the part that made up the base of the pyramid (although it was on top), was already completed, and all that was left was the bottom half, the pointy half. He counted the stray, unconnected pieces and was delighted to see that he was already halfway done; just thirty-two more pieces until he reached his goal: the completion of the Puzzle. (1)

Giddy with excitement, Harry allowed an unguarded smile to curl on his lips. He studied the inside of the Puzzle and began to shuffle through the pieces he had left, searching for that one piece that would fit into the groove he had just looked at. Where was it—? Ah.

Five successfully placed pieces and hundreds of failed attempts later, Harry finally felt his lids begin to droop in protest to his lack of falling asleep. He blearily packed up the tiny pieces of gold into their box and deposited it back into his trunk, patting Hedwig lightly on the head on his way back to bed. "Night Hedwig," he whispered. The moment his head hit the pillow, he was pulled into a blissfully peaceful slumber.

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1. I know I said in the 5th or something chapter that Harry aligned the Puzzle pieces in rows and columns of six. But I've realized that thirty-six pieces isn't that much, so I'm changing it to sixty-four pieces. Eight times eight equals sixty-four, and sixty-four over 2 equals thirty-two, and because half of the Puzzle is completed, that means thirty-two pieces are left.

I am such a biyatch. /sigh/ I took way too long on this chapter, and it still SUCKED. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. /breath/ Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. /sniffle/ Wah. X.x I'm sooooooooo sorry. …Again. /sob/ I hope you'll forgive me and—

Review. xD Heh…heh…

/big empty spot/ Arnold died. /giant grin/ The aliens ate him right after they probed all the HnM ideas from my mind. :O Oh dear. XD Fear not, for his spirit shall always be with us---- haunting you and following you around until you review the latest installment of: Hikari no Mahoutsukai!

9/4/06: I've reuploaded this chapter because the story didn't seem to be updating. O Oh dear. xD The first attempt was yesterday, on the third.