Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Y/n had even put on his robes.
"Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with us too long?" asked Harry loudly as the hem of Seamus's robes whipped out of sight.
"Don't worry about it." Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder. "He's just..."
But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.
Neville and Ron both gave Y/n and Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but it did nothing to brighten Harry's spirits. How much more of this would they have to take?
"What's the matter?" asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Y/n, Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. "You look absolutel...Oh for heavens sake."
She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.
'GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk. ) '
"They are the limit." said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. "We'll have to talk to them, Ron."
Ron looked positively alarmed. "Why?"
"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"
Ron said nothing, Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
Hermione took Y/n's hand now interlocking her fingers with his. "Anyway, what's wrong?" She continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. "You and Harry look really angry about something."
"Seamus reckons they're lying about You-Know-Who." said Ron succinctly, when neither of them responded.
Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on at least Y/n's behalf, sighed. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too." she said gloomily.
"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, and if Y/n's a murderer have you?' Harry said loudly.
"That is enough Harry." Y/n warned him. "You know Hermione better than that."
"I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you both, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your sides."
There was a short pause.
"Sorry." said Harry in a low voice.
"That's quite all right." said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?"
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.
"About You-Know-Who. He said his 'gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust...'"
"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron, looking at her in admiration.
"She listens Ron." said Y/n.
"So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what..."
"The point." Hermione pressed on loudly. "Is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same, stand together, be united..."
"And Harry got it right last night." retorted Ron. "If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherin...fat chance."
'Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity." said Hermione crossly.
"Hermione, I have tried to repair bonds with Atticus several times in the past. But I gave up on him years ago. I do not care what he thinks of me, but I will not have him insult my girlfriend the way that he does."
"Your relationship with you're brother is difficult..." Hermione said carefully.
"Difficult?" Ron repeated. "Hermione the guy treats him like a beggar on the street..."
"As I said, I gave up on Atticus years ago." Y/n said. "Unless he one day truly apologizes and makes amends for what he has said and done to others, I will cut ties with him the moment we leave Hogwarts."
"You don't mean that do you?" Hermione asked shocked.
"I am afraid I do." Y/n nodded his head seriously.
They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the Entrance Hall, they caught sight of Y/n and Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened one might attack stragglers.
"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that." said Harry sarcastically now.
They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood, it was a miserable rain-cloud grey.
"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying." he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.
"Maybe..." said Hermione thoughtfully.
"What?" said both Harry and Ron together.
"Well...maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here." Hermione suggested.
"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Ron, half-laughing. "How could we not notice?"
Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Y/n and Harry.
"Hi, Angelina." Harry said.
"Hi." she said briskly. "Good summer?" And without waiting for an answer. "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."
"Nice one." said Harry, grinning at her.
"Congratulations." Y/n said suspecting Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.
"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right?" She said to Y/n and Harry. "Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."
"Ok." said Harry.
"We shall be there." Y/n said.
Angelina smiled at them and departed.
"I'd forgotten Wood had left." said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside Y/n and pulled a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"
"It means, we will get to practice at a more reasonable time." Y/n said putting some pancakes on his own plate.
"I s'pose." said Harry, taking the bench opposite with Ron. "He was a good Keeper..."
"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Ron.
"No, I suppose it will not." Y/n mused.
With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water, it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was hardly surprised, his only correspondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius would have anything new to tell him after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.
"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm not bothering...load of rubbish."
"It's best to know what the enemy is saying." said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ron had finished eating.
"Nothing." she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you, Y/n or Dumbledore or anything."
"No news is good news." Y/n said now finishing his pancakes.
Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables.
"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts...Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted."
"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"
"Look what we've got today." said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."
"Fair point, little bro." said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."
"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.
"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet." said George, helping himself to a kipper.
"Cheers." said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable. "But I think I'll take the lessons."
"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes." said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "You can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."
"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.
"Says me." said Hermione. "And Ron."
"Leave me out of it." said Ron hastily.
"What a dilemma..." Y/n began. "On one hand one of these prefects is my lovely girlfriend and I do wish to keep her happy, but on the other hand I am an investor in said products and do wish them to be successful. My hands really are tied so I am afraid I must stay impartial on this matter." Y/n said in a way that made it clear he was not getting involved.
Hermione glared at him while Fred and George sniggered.
"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione." said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."
"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.
"Fifth year's OWL year." said George.
"So?"
"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw." said Fred with satisfaction.
"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs." said George happily. "Tears and tantrums...Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint..."
"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred remmiscently.
"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas." said George.
"Oh yeah." said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten...hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"
"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth." said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."
"Yeah...you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" said Ron.
"Yep." said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."
"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year." said George brightly. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."
"We're not going to waste our last year here, though." said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."
"It is nice to see you two take something seriously for once." Y/n chuckled.
"We'll let you know how it goes." George said as he and Fred took a stack of toast now and walked away.
"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?" Harry asked now.
"Oh, yeah." said Ron. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."
"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked the other three, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.
"Not really." said Ron slowly. "Except...well..." He looked slightly sheepish.
"You can tell us Ron." Y/n said.
"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror." said Ron in an off-hand voice.
"Yeah, it would." said Harry fervently.
"But they're, like, the elite." said Ron. "You've got to be really good. What about you, Y/n?Hermione?"
"I don't know." she said. "I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile."
"An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.
"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing." said Hermione thoughtfully, "I mean, if I could take SPEW further..."
Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.
"What bout you Y/n?" Ron asked him again hoping to get off the topic of SPEW.
"Well..." Y/n started and Hermione looked at him with interest of what he would say. "I have been thinking of perhaps going into teaching..." He shared with them.
"You want to be a teacher?" Hermione asked him curiously.
"I have only been thinking about it. Nothing is decided of course." Y/n was quick to say.
"What made you thinking of teaching?" Harry asked.
Y/n felt a little embarrassed now as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Professor Lupin..." He then said quietly. "I always liked his lessons. If were to become a teacher I would want to be one who can have classes as fun and informative as his."
"Go for it mate." Ron said. "I mean you already know loads of spells and get loads of top marks anyway."
Y/n gave a small grateful smile to the three.
History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Y/n and Hermione's notes before exams, Only they seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.
Today, they suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Ron, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.
"How would it be." she asked them coldly, as they left the classroom for break. "If Y/n and I refused to lend you our notes this year?"
"We'd fail our OWL." said Ron. "If you want that on your consciences."
"I am sure I could live with it." Y/n gave a small shrug.
"You'd both deserve it." Hermione snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?"
"We do try." said Ron. "We just haven't got your guys brains or memory or concentration.. you're just cleverer than we are...is it nice to rub it in?"
"Oh, don't give me that rubbish." said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she and Y/n led the way out into the damp courtyard.
A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron, Y/n and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.
"Hello, Harry!"
It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual. Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls, Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.
"Hi." said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"You got that stuff off, then?"
"Yeah." said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. '"So, did you... er...have a good summer?"
Y/n just grimaced to Hermione.
Cedric had been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected his own. Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, "Oh, it was all right, you know..."
"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold 'T' was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"
"Yeah, I do." said Cho.
"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.
"I've supported them since I was six." said Cho coolly. "Anyway...see you, Harry."
She walked away.
Y/n waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before turning to Ron. "You are very thoughtless..."
"What? I only asked her if..."
"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?" Hermione joined in now.
"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping..."
"Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?" Hermione asked.
"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only..."
"Why does it matter if she supported the Tornados?" Y/n asked.
"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season..."
"And that matters why?"
"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon..."
"That's the bell." said Harry dully, because Ron, Y/n and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape's dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes of conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.
And yet, he thought, as they joined the queue lining up outside Snape's classroom door, she had chosen to come and talk to him, hadn't she? She had been Cedric's girlfriend, she could easily have hated him for coming out of the Triwizard maze alive when Cedric had died, yet she was talking to him in a perfectly friendly way, not as though she thought him mad, or a liar, or as if Y/n was in some horrible way responsible for Cedric's death...yes, she had definitely chosen to come and talk to him, and that made the second time in two days... and at this thought, Harry's spirits rose. Even the ominous sound of Snape's dungeon door creaking open did not puncture the small, hopeful bubble that seemed to have swelled in his chest. He filed into the classroom behind Y/n and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, where he sat down between Ron and Y/n.
"Settle down." said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.
There was no real need for the call to order, the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.
"Before we begin today's lesson." said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my...displeasure."
His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me." Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."
His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell." said Snape softly. "So, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students."
"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level, the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned, if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Y/n's right side Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. "The ingredients and method..." Snape flicked his wand "...are on the blackboard, you will find everything you need..." he flicked his wand again "...In the store cupboard." The door of the said cupboard sprang open. "You have an hour and a half... start."
Just as Harry, Ron, Y/n and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities, the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions, the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.
"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion." called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.
Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam.
Ron's was spitting green sparks.
Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out.
The surfaces of Y/n and Hermione's own potions, however, were a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise.
At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.
"The Draught of Peace." said Harry tensely.
"Tell me, Potter." said Snape softly. "Can you read?"
Draco Malfoy laughed.
"Yes, I can." said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."
Harry squinted at the blackboard, it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.
"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."
His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"
"No." said Harry very quietly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No." said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."
"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce."
The contents of Harry's potion vanished, he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing." said Snape. "Homework, twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething.
The four were sat down for lunch now.
"That was really unfair." said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Y/n and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's."
"When he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire." Y/n explained.
"Yeah, well." said Harry, glowering at his plate. "Since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"
Neither of the others answered, all four of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts. Y/n was not a fan of Snape himself as he remembered his falling out with the teacher in third year.
"I did think he might be a bit better this year." said Hermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean...you know ..." she looked around carefully, there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table." ... now he's in the Order and everything."
"Snape is far too much of a petty and bitter man to change." Y/n said digging into his lunch now.
"Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?" Ron said.
"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron." snapped Hermione.
"Oh, shut up, the pair of you." said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. "Can't you give it a rest?" said Harry. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.
"Leave him..." Y/n said as Ron debated getting up. "He is mostly likely still angry about the incident with Seamus from last night and now it is paired with how poorly potions went for him."
"I understand that he's having a difficult time Y/n but so are you." Hermione spoke up. "It would be nice if Harry stopped taking out his temper on us."
"I agree...but Harry has never been one to keep a cool and rational head at the best of times." Y/n sighed.
When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. It reminded Y/n of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.
The class was quiet as it entered the room, Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.
A few people mumbled "Good afternoon" in reply.
"Tut, tut." said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." they begrudgingly chanted back at her.
"There, now." said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks, the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Y/n put his wand back inside his bag and pulled out a quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it, words appeared on the board at once.
'Defence Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles'
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."
Y/n's brow furrowed.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
She rapped the blackboard again, the first message vanished and was replaced by
'Course Aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.'
For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.
"I think we'll try that again." said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply. 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge..." rang through the room.
"Good." said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One, Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."
Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Y/n turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.
It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns on a summer's day.
Harry himself felt his concentration sliding away from him, he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.
Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose.
Y/n seemed to notice the lack of page turning from his girlfriend now as well as he turned to look at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.
After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry and Y/n was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners'.
When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no." said Hermione.
"Well, we're reading just now." said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims." said Hermione.
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.
"And your name is?"
"Hermione Granger." said Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully." said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't." said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.
"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr...?"
"Weasley." said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.
Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry, Y/n and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry and Y/n for a moment before she addressed Hermione.
"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes." said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.
"No, but..."
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way..."
"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a..."
"Hand, Mr Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.
Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."
"I repeat." said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but..."
Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school." she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth. "But you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed...not to mention." she gave a nasty little laugh. "Extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"Professor Lupin was a far better teacher than you could ever..." Y/n angrily began to say.
"Hand, Mr Grindelwald!" Professor Umbridge said having recognised him straight away. "As I was saying...you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day..."
"No we haven't." Hermione said, "We just..."
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads."
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions." said Professor Umbridge dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them beforehand?" Y/n said.
"Hand Mr Grindelwald!" Umbridge said again now.
But Y/n ignored her and continued. "So for this entire year not a single student in any of your classes will cast a single spell, You will make them sit and read a book hoping that they pick up the experience they need and take an exam with no practice?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough..."
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.
Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world." she said softly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh, yeah?" said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think... " said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe... Lord Voldemort?"
Ron gasped, Lavender Brown uttered a little scream, Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.
"Now, let me make a few things quite plain." Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead..."
"He wasn't dead." said Harry angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr-Potter you have already lost your house ten points do not make matters worse for yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie. '
"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. '"I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'."
Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Y/n however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him, Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.
"What would you know!" Y/n began.
'Y/n, no!' Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Y/n moved his arm out of her reach to point at Umbridge.
"You did not see things we saw that night! You did not experience the torture we went through, You did not have to endure the pain we felt, You do not have to live with the scars that remind you every day of what happened... Do not talk to us of lies when it is you who spreads them!"
"You may join Mr Potter for detention Mr Grindelwald..." Umbridge said now.
"According to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked standing up as well now, his voice shaking.
There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry or Y/n talk about what had happened on the night Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry and Y/n to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at the without a trace of a fake smile on her face.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident..." she said coldly.
"YOU DO NOT DARE!" Y/n bellowed now stopping her. No one had ever seen him so angry, not even his friends. "You Do not you dare...Insult Cedric's death by suggesting it was a mere accident!"
"It was murder!" said Harry angry himself. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates but if Y/n was going to do it then so was he. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."
Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to scream at them. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter Mr Grindelwald, dears."
Y/n strode away from Hermione and up to the teacher's desk with Harry. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next.
Professor Umbridge pulled two small rolls of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched them out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that neither Y/n or Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchments and tapped them with her wand, they sealed themselves seamlessly so that they could not open it.
"Take those to Professor McGonagall, dears." said Professor Umbridge, holding out the notes to them.
Both took one from her without saying a word and turned on their heels and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, Y/n slamming the classroom door shut behind them.
They walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in Y/n's hand, and turning a corner Harry walked slap into Peeves the poltergeist, a wide-mouthed little man floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.
"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter and Grimly Grindelwald!" cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink. Harry jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.
"Get out of it. Peeves."
"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky." said Peeves, pursuing Harry and Y/n along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above them. "What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in..." Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry "...tongues?"
"I said, leave me ALONE!" Harry shouted.
A door to the left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.
"What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?" she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. "Why are you and Grindelwald not in class?"
"We've been sent to see you." said Harry stiffly.
"Sent? What do you mean, sent?" Professor McGonagall asked.
Both boys held out the notes from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took both from them, frowning, slit them open with a tap of her wand, stretched them out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.
"Come in here, Potter, Grindelwald."
They followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind them.
"Well." said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Is this true?"
"Is what true Professor McGonagall?" Y/n asked still rather angry but calming himself down out of respect.
"Is it true that you both shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes." said Harry.
"You both called her a liar?"
"Yes." Y/n answered this time.
"You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?"
"Yes." Both boys said now.
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry and Y/n closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter, Grindelwald."
"Have...what?" Harry said looking at Y/n who was just as confused.
"Have a biscuit." McGonagall repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."
Y/n and Harry sank into chairs opposite her and helped themselves each to a Ginger Newt, still feeling confused.
Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's notes and looked them very seriously now.
"Potter, Grindelwald, you both need to be careful."
Y/n swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to, it was not brisk, crisp and stern, it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.
"Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you both much more than house points and a detention."
"What do you..." Harry began.
"Potter, use your common sense." snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting."
"Fudge..." Y/n said disdainfully.
The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.
"It says here she's given you both detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow." Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's notes again.
"Every evening this week!" Harry repeated, horrified.
"Professor, could you..." Y/n began.
'"No, I couldn't." said Professor McGonagall flatly.
"But..."
"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember, tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."
'But we were telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged. "Voldemort is back, you know he is, Professor Dumbledore knows he is..."
"For heaven's sake, Potter!'" said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily for she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name. "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your heads down and your temper under control!"
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.
"Have another biscuit." she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
"No, thanks." said Harry coldly.
"Don't be ridiculous." she snapped.
He took one. "Thanks." he said grudgingly.
"So, we are to bite our tongues and tolerate this woman?" Y/n asked McGonagall.
"Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast?"
"Yeah." said Harry. "Yeah...she said...progress will be prohibited or... well, it meant that ...that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts. "
Professor McGonagall eyed them closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for them.
"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate." she said, pointing them out of her office.