Disclaimer: Nothing you can recognise belong to me. This is just for fun and I don't win anything (except a bit of english practice).
I sorry for any grammar, speling and any other kind of mistake you can find, English is not my first language, not even my second one. Any mistake you can point I'll try to correct.
Thanks for reading.
Neville Longbottom had never thought of himself as courageous, how the Sorting Hat had considered him worthy of the lion house was a complete mystery for him. Although, in his defence, even Ron seemed to have lost some of his bravery.
When Ginny and Hermione had went to him that morning to ask him no to mention anything about the new board of directors in front of Harry, he had happily agreed guessing that, simply, it was a sensitive matter for his friend.
Just that, with sensitive, he had fallen short.
Though, it's possible, that Harry's over exaggerated reaction was due to the simple fact that he hadn't known a word about it.
When Ron had insisted he got into a carriage with them, in spite of it already being overload and plenty of others being free, he had had to realise that something was wrong.
And, when Hermione interrupted her conversation with Terry to say to the green eyed: "Harry, there's something you need to know." He had had to jump from the carriage.
Unfortunately, it was too late for that.
"Umbridge."
A shiver ran down Neville's spine at the glacial voice of the, until then, friendly dark haired man.
"Umbridge."
The temperature falls and soon his breath turns mist.
"Umbridge, headmistress."
Little sparks charge the air and, in his next breath, Neville feels that, more than oxygen, he has inhaled magic, which Harry obviously has lost control.
"And, why the hell haven't I heard about it until now?"
The soft voice only increases the brown haired boy's anxiety but, somehow, he still gets enough courage to raise his eyes towards his friend, finding him with eyes closed and hands clenched into fists in an obvious (and pointless) attempt to control his magic.
Ginny is the one who answers, even if her voice is nothing else that an almost inaudible whisper.
"Pro-professor Dumbledore thought-." The glass in the windows shatter and silence goes back to the carriage.
"Thought?" The dark haired wizard inquires once again after a couple of deep breaths.
"Well." Ron says in what tries to be a light and friendly voice that doesn't fool anybody. "Given your relationship with her…" Even before the red headed ends speaking Neville has closed his eyes once more and tries to shrink a bit more in his seat, those are not good words to tell to green eyed wizard, no now and not ever.
"Given my relationship with her? My relationship with her?" Everyone in the carriage keeps their breaths. Damn Weasley and his big mouth. "And, for relationship, he referred to her habit of using Blood Quills, she trying to use the Cruciatus Curse in me or she sending a couple of Dementors to Privet Drive to give me the kiss?"
Nobody answers nor does he expect answer because he gets up, the door flies open and he leaves.
"Well, it wasn't that bad, was it?"
Nobody bothers to answer Ron neither.
.-.
The new professor of Defence contemplated from a window the arrival of the students with indifference, slightly taking notice of a girl with her head buried in a book or the young man with almost white hair that must be Lucius Malfoy's son.
Nevertheless, something makes him turn his head towards a carriage, one that has been sitting there for a couple of minutes without anybody getting out of it. Right then, the door flies open and a young man gets out.
From afar, the professor doesn't arrive to see clearly a face, although it's fairly visible the highly magically charged atmosphere, like a distortion in the air, and little sparks easily visible.
A small smirk spreads in his face at the same time that eyes of strange reddish brown light up.
A teenager around fifteen in magical maturing process.
How… curious.
And, according with how the magic was acting, increasing and decreasing its volume, destroying in its anger, obviously, in growing stage.
And out of control.
The smirk widens and he turns around, starting his way to the Great Hall with the intention of identifying the boy and inform the headmistress. At the same time, of course, that he offers his help to guide and teach the young student, as a wizard that has gone through it himself.
The year was getting more interesting by the minute.
.-.
Harry was willing to keep calm, mostly to not to break any expulsion record, as tempting as the Dursley looked like at the moment.
And he had achieved it all dinner time, the fact that the rest of the people had left him alone likely being a deciding factor. Nevertheless, the continuous itch at the nape of his neck, unmistakable signal of somebody studying his every movement since his first step in the hall, was keeping him on edge.
Right then, Hermione decides it's time to get him out of his self imposed isolation and points out something (probably someone) at the staff table.
His face pales and his heart beat increases at the sight of the very familiar face of the new professor of defence.
Emerald eyes make contact with strange brown ones and the famished smirk that appears at the adult's face makes his blood run cold.
He hardly hears Umbridge words:
"…the new professor of Defence Against Dark Arts: Marvolo Gaunt."
The windows at the Great Hall shatter.