"Did you hear?"

"She's not gone, is she?"

"The door's locked…"

"Did you hear?"

Came the whispers from every corner, every hallway.

No amount of searching could locate her. The sight of the putrid pink bow bobbing atop the frilly, overdone curls met no pupil's eyes. For the first time that year, everyone felt a bit lighter. Dolores Umbridge was no where to be found on the Hogwarts grounds.

"She's never left before, has she?" questioned a bewildered Hermione Granger as the trio weaved their way among the mass of students to hover at the edge of the classroom. She wriggled the door knob and shrugged. "It's locked."

"Oh, come on Hermione," Ron Weasley said wearily. "Don't pretend you can't change that."

"Well, I don't know why I should; it's not my room…" But as she said it, Hermione pointed her wand at the door's handle. "Alohamora."

Ron pushed open the door and craned his neck to peer inside, hoping to glimpse their temporary (and dreading to see the temporary who was there last time their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher decided to take flight). Seeing nothing but an empty room, he sighed with relief and reported his findings to his friends. He gave a knowing look to his best mate Harry Potter and started, "Maybe class'll be cancelled, and we can practice—"

"You mean," interrupted Hermione pointedly. "You can finish that essay on healing potions for Professor Snape."

Ron and Harry in unison screwed up their faces at the thought. Writing endlessly on the properties of unicorn horn when combined with the extract of infantile devil's snare was hardly appealing when the grounds of Hogwarts were now Umbridge free.

Other students filtered into the empty class habitually; some shrugged contentedly to peers, other looked tentatively for a hidden pink bow, but all were grinning. Hermione, weary of this attitude from her friends, sighed heavily and prompted, "Come on," pushing the two gently into their room. "If class was cancelled, then Professor Umbridge would have left a note, or Professor McGonagall—"

And as fate would have it, Professor McGonagall's voice was heard in the hall before the doorway, rallying remnant students into the room. Her presence called for the attention of the flustered pupils before her, and when all eyes met hers, she began solemnly: "It appears that our dear Professor Umbridge has decided to take an early Christmas holiday." McGonagall exhaled a slow and quiet breath that no one could perceive, and started again. "The headmaster happens to be in a meeting with a possible temporary instructor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, until our Ministry-appointed one decides to grace us again with per presence. However," –here Harry was certain he caught a slight smile cross his Head of House's face— "for today, you will have a free period."

Predictably, Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Professor, in the past if a teacher was unable to meet his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Snape would—ow!" Hermione glared at Ron, who only shrugged and moved his foot back over.

McGonagall seemed to have been expecting this, as she responded promptly as if it was rehearsed. "Professor Snape has his own lessons to administer, Miss Granger. You are recalling times when no alternative was found so that each teacher may focus on his course respectively. This possible temporary will make it easier for everyone; as you will remember, the method worked quite well for your Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a time. Any further questions before class is dismissed?"

Everyone began to pull their books into their arms until again, a hand rose to the air—this time, though, not sharp and high like Hermione's. The sight of it produced a unanimous groan throughout the room, though it was quickly silenced by a sharp look from the deputy headmistress. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Who's Professor Dumbledore got in mind?"

"I don't know, Longbottom." She gestured to the exit. "Class dismissed."

As the weather was as rarely fair as time was free, Harry, Ron, and Hermione (among several others) took advantage of their emptied schedule to spend time out of doors until dinner. Making herself home under the tree nearing the lake, Hermione immediately began again work on her Potions essay.

Ron eyed her and could not suppress a grin. "Didn't you already finish that once already?"

"Yes," she responded briskly, thumbing through an old library book she'd procured precisely for the assignment. "But I forgot to include the side effects of improper use of expired aconite…"

Ron rolled his eyes and, meaning for only Harry to hear, muttered, "As opposed to proper use of expired… acetone?"

"Aconite!" snapped Hermione, and she huddled closer to her parchment. "Now, shh! You should get busy, too…"

The thought of another essay for Snape caused a quick knot to grow in Harry's stomach, especially as Hermione was right—neither he nor Ron had begun work on it, though it was assigned the previous Thursday. And this knot was worse than the past ones, with the new emphasis his teachers decided to put on oral presentation this year. Harry had already had to demonstrate in front of his Herbology class how to properly seed a Fanged Geranium (and, accidently, how to mend a wound caused by said Fanged Geranium), in his Transfiguration class how to change a button into a ladybug (or, rather, how to make a button grow wings), and in his Astronomy class why different stars were varying colors (the blue ones are the coldest, right?). This latest Potions essay was to be read aloud before the class next meeting, whilst demonstrating an accurate concoction of the assigned potion. The idea of standing before the class (and Snape) alone and being called to speak, to make an accurate potion, and to write the essay for it all, was bordering on terrifying. And one look toward Ron, Harry could tell shared the same thoughts. The two sank to the ground opposite Hermione and began, with loathing, to invent something to write.

"Now, what was it about nettles?" muttered Ron.

"I dunno… Sounds like something out of The Quibbler, though, huh?" laughed Harry, as the two continued their journey into the realm of Painful Potion Essays.

At dinner that evening, the Great Hall buzzed more than usual (something the trio, as they approached the Gryffindor table, attributed to the joyous lack of Umbridge). However, as Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat in the large gap between Neville Longbottom and Nearly Headless Nick, Neville leaned into them and started, "Did you see? Professor Dumbledore's already found someone; she's sitting with the other teachers already."

"Really, who is she?" Hermione wondered aloud as her gaze drifted toward the head table. And when her already large brown eyes noticed the new addition, they grew quite to rival the plate set before her. "Oh," emitted softly.

"What?" echoed Ron to her side and as he and Harry looked in her direction, they saw as she did, and Ron sounded like he was choking on something, though he hadn't begun to eat. Harry blinked, thinking something was wrong with his sight, or with the light. But he resigned himself after several moments to accepting that he saw the truth: the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was indeed… green.