A/N

Sorry to disappoint anyone, but I'm not going to change the magical world to be somehow formed by Hecate and/or connected to the wizarding world. That's been done a million times before, and I feel like it's very limiting in what I can do with this story. Again- I'm truly sorry if this upsets you, but I hope you continue to read anyway.

Disclaimer: .. / -.. - -. .-. - / - .- -. / ... .-. / - .-. / .-. .-


Piper's POV | Hogwarts

Last night's dinner had been, to say the least, an interesting affair.

After the Sorting was finished, food had appeared up and down the table, though that wasn't the interesting thing. When conversation began, it was rather like being at a formal dinner party. The girls to Piper's right and left had politely introduced themselves as Lily Moon and Daphne Greengrass, then gone on to ask her blood status.

Piper, of course, had had no idea what this meant, so when they presented her with the options of Pureblood, Half-Blood, and Muggleborn, she had rather reluctantly chosen Half-Blood. It wasn't a lie, not really, even if she was stretching the truth.

As dinner went on, the students around her had seemed to lose their formal manner. She felt a bit more relaxed, even if she still had no idea what the conversation was about.

Right now, Piper was lying in bed, staring at her emerald green bed curtains and debating whether to get up or not. As it turned out, the Slytherin common room was far beneath the rest of the school, with windows looking out into the dark lake. The room was silent except for the soft lapping of water against the icy glass and the heavy breathing of the other girls.

Sighing, Piper rolled out of bed and slipped into her shoes. She pulled on her black robes, now embroidered with the Slytherin crest, and left the room, closing the door silently behind her. There were only a few students already in the common space, but they still stared as she passed.

Back out in the corridor, Piper paused, looking around. She vaguely remembered the path they had taken down to the common room, but in such a vast castle, she was sure she would get lost. After a few minutes of walking and several wrong turns, she rounded a corner and bumped into none other than Leo, who was looking just as lost.

"Hey Pipes!" He exclaimed, when he had recognized her.

"Hi." She said, peering around him. "Where's Annabeth?"

Leo shrugged.

"She wasn't in the common room when I woke up, so I figured she had already gone down to breakfast. I've been trying to back to the Great Hall."

"Well you're going the wrong way." Piper laughed. "This leads down to the dungeons."

They set off again, and, after stopping to ask a few ghosts for directions, they found themselves back in the Great Hall. Somehow, the girls from Piper's dormitory had managed to get there before her. She parted ways with Leo and joined them at the Slytherin table.

As Piper ate a small breakfast of fruit and toast, the Great Hall slowly filled. Professor Snape, the man that had taught the demigods Potions at the Leaky Cauldron, walked down the side of the Slytherin table, passing out schedules.

Her first class was Charms, followed by Potions, Transfiguration, and Divination. Moody had deemed it unnecessary to catch them up on their electives, and thus she would be going into Divination with no past experience, save perhaps the many prophecies she had already heard.

"What classes did they have at Ilvermorny?" Lily asked suddenly from beside her.

"Um…" Piper stalled, her mind racing. "Some were the same as here."

"And the others?" Daphne inquired curiously.

"Well," Piper coughed. "There was a class in public speaking—convincing people of your opinions and whatnot, a class on precious gemstones, and- uh, another one about…fish?"

"Oh." Lily said, looking disappointed. "That's cool I guess."

After breakfast, Piper followed the rest of the fifth years to the South Tower, where the Charms class was held. She had already met the tiny Professor Flitwick during their lessons at the Leaky Cauldron, but oddly enough, he seemed to have no recollection of her.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "Is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

So it seemed as though they had joined school just in time for some giant tests. Wonderful. They spent more than an hour practicing summoning charms, something that Piper was noticeably worse at, and Professor Flitwick rounded off the lesson by assigning them more homework than Piper had ever seen in her life.

Wondering whether she could charmspeak Flitwick into letting her off the homework, Piper followed Lily and Daphne back down into the dungeons, where they would be having their Potions class. To her surprise and delight, she found Percy and Hazel already sitting in the classroom.

"Hey guys!" She said, walking over.

"Hey!" Hazel exclaimed.

There was soft cough from behind her, and she glanced back to see Daphne glaring at her from beside Lily.

"What?" Piper asked.

Lily shook her head an infinitesimal amount. Piper glared back at them, before turning pointedly and striding over to Percy and Hazel.

"What was that about?" Percy asked, glancing over Piper's shoulder at Lily and Daphne, who were now taking their seats.

"Nothing." Piper lied easily. "How was History of Magic?"

"Weird." Hazel shuddered. "Apparently a ghost used to teach the class, but the new teacher— Professor Verbeck, was teaching about mythology."

"What?!"

Percy opened his mouth to elaborate, but Professor Snape swept into the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Settle down." He said curtly.

Piper hurried to an open desk and sat down. Snape's eyes followed her but he made no comment, instead walking to the front of the room and glaring at them all with dark, empty eyes.

"Before we begin today's lesson," he began. "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 O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure."

His gaze lingered upon a rather chubby Gryffindor, 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 N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on the bespectacled boy from the day before. The boy glared back, and his messy hair shifted to reveal a thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Piper realized with a jolt that this must be the Harry Potter Chiron had spoken of so many days before.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape continued softly. "So whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. 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"

"The ingredients and method" — Snape flicked his wand — "are on the blackboard" — (they appeared there) — "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."

There was a great rattling as everyone pulled their cauldron and scales from their bags. Piper glanced quickly at the blackboard before hurrying over to the store cupboard for the ingredients. Lucky for her, Potion brewing consisted mostly of following directions, rather than actual theory. This potion, however, was particularly difficult.

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 counterclockwise 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 vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Piper glanced around. While the vapor from her potion wasn't very silvery, at least it was light grey, unlike the redhead beside Harry, whose potion was spitting green sparks. Harry's potion was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam, but the surface of Hermione's was a shimmering mist of silver vapor.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" Professor Snape said, stopping by Harry's cauldron and smirking down at him.

"The Draught of Peace." Harry replied tensely.

"Tell me, Potter." Snape said softly, "Can you read?"

A Slytherin boy with white blonde hair laughed.

"Yes, I can," Harry forced out.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'" Harry read.

"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. Evanesco."

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."

Piper filled her flagon and shuffled to the front of the room with the rest of the class. It seemed that Harry had done something to annoy Professor Snape, though she couldn't imagine what. When the bell rang he rushed quickly from the classroom, followed by Hermione and the redhead.

Piper packed her bag slowly, waiting for Percy and Hazel.

"Professor Snape was absolutely foul to him!" Hazel hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot of the classroom.

"I've had worse." Percy shrugged. "My Pre-Algebra teacher tried to kill me once."

Piper snorted.

"Tell me more about History of Magic." She implored as they trudged up the many steps to the Great Hall.

"She wrote that book on the book list; Magic and Mythology." Hazel said softly, as they were passing a group of giggling 3rd year Hufflepuffs. "The first few chapters are just the origins of the world— Gaea and Ouranos and whatnot, but I scanned ahead, and she starts discussing how Greek life created the magical world."

"But it didn't…" Piper said slowly. "That's like saying the Greeks wouldn't have existed without the Aztecs."

"I know." Percy growled. "But it's not like we can just say that."

"No way this is a coincidence." Hazel muttered. "A new teacher shows up exactly when we do, teaching the wizards about Greek mythology?"

"Does she look like a monster?" Piper asked, only partly joking.

Percy chuckled.

"Not at all. Just your average middle-age woman. Brown hair, dark eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Which makes us suspect her even more." Hazel added darkly.

They had arrived at the Great Hall. Annabeth was already waiting for them, Leo beside her.

"Grab some food." She said, gesturing to the tables, which were laden with soups and sandwiches. "We're meeting with Jason, Frank, and Nico outside."

Piper grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and followed Annabeth from the hall. The wind whipped around her robes as they hurried towards the tree line of the dark forest. There, Jason, Frank and Nico were waiting, sitting with their backs against the ancient oaks and munching on sandwiches.

"Isn't this the Forbidden Forest?" Hazel asked, looking around at the trees.

"Yes." Annabeth replied, throwing down her bag. "But all the books I've read say that it's only dangerous if you go very far in. We needed a place to talk privately, and this is the best we've got."

Piper sat down next to Jason and unwrapped her sandwich.

"Doesn't seem very dangerous." She said, looking around.

"You'd be surprised." Nico said darkly, though the image was ruined slightly by his cheeks bulging with roast-beef sandwich.

"So how are everybody's houses?" Hazel asked the group at large.

"Our common room is in a tower." Leo said, rolling his eyes. "And you have to answer a riddle to get in."

Annabeth glared at him.

"It makes it so only Ravenclaws can enter."

"Yeah, well," Leo continued. "The door knocker seemed to object to me taking it apart for some reason— you know, to see how it works, but—"

"It works with magic, obviously." Annabeth cut across him.

Percy shoved a fist in his mouth, barely concealing a chuckle.

"What are you laughing about, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth growled, turning on him.

Percy removed his fist, eyes still crinkled with laughter.

"I just never thought I'd hear you explain something with magic." He snickered.

Annabeth glared at him.

"So how's the Gryffindor common room, then?"

"It's hidden behind a portrait of a fat lady." Percy explained, still chortling. "You have to give a password to get in."

"Same for Slytherin." Piper said quickly. "Except there's no portrait for us, only a stone wall."

"And Hufflepuff?" Hazel asked, turning to Frank.

"You have to tap a barrel in a certain rhythm." He shrugged. "It's not too hard to remember."

"And the inside?" Leo pressed.

"Uh," Frank coughed. "It's alright."

"It's repulsing." Nico spat. "Like living in a honeycomb."

"It is a bit yellow." Jason conceded weakly.

"Have you guys had History of Magic yet?" Hazel asked, ignoring Percy and Leo's pointed sniggering.

There was a general murmur of dissent.

"Why?" Annabeth asked.

Percy and Hazel explained the situation, as the others continued to chew on their sandwiches.

"Weird…" Jason muttered, when they were finished.

"We should IM Chiron." Piper said firmly.

"Right." Annabeth said, scrambling in her bag. She pulled out a spray bottle and a thick, golden drachma. "Here." She passed the spray bottle to Percy.

Percy began to spray, and the afternoon sun filtered through the vapor, breaking into colors.

"O goddess, accept our offering." Annabeth said, raising the coin above her head.

She tossed the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill." Annabeth requested.

There was a long pause where nothing happened. Then, with a slight crackling noise, the porch of the Big House appeared. It flickered slightly, before vanishing. It reappeared soon after, though this time in black and white.

Piper shot Jason a puzzled look, who shrugged.

"It must be the international connection." He said.

"Chiron?" Annabeth called.

A middle-aged man wheeled into the frame. He squinted up at them.

"It took you long enough to contact me." Chiron said, yawning. "Though I do wish you could've called a little later; it's still fairly early here."

Piper smiled. It was good to see Chiron again, even if it was just through a hazy black and white mist.

Annabeth quickly caught him back up to speed, explaining everything from Moody, to the brain stimulant potion, to their sorting.

"So they had you stay at a place called the Leaky Cauldron, eh?" Chiron said, scratching the back of his head. "I would've thought they might have a stronger headquarters."

The water from the spray bottle was beginning to wear thin, less and less mist coming out with each spray.

"Thank you for keeping me updated." Chiron called, voice growing fainter. "Make sure to let me know if anything else interesting happens."

The mist dissipated completely, and he was gone. It was only walking back up to the castle, that Piper realized they had completely forgotten to ask about Professor Verbeck.

Hazel's POV | Hogwarts

Their next class was Divination. This was something Hazel was looking forward to. What with their two worlds connecting, she figured they were bound to find some answers in this class of prophecies. She couldn't have been more wrong.

It was obvious once the class started the Divination teacher, Sibyll Trelawney, was a complete fraud. She was a thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads. Her glasses were large, magnifying her eyes to several times their natural size.

They spent the majority of the class reading the introduction to The Dream Oracle by Inigo Imago, which was full of utter Styx in Hazel's opinion. It wasn't too hard to figure out what demigod dreams meant, and she'd never found any correlation between dreaming of oranges and a coming frost.

The last ten minutes of class were spent doing dream interpretation, something Percy seemed to be particularly against. They mostly talked about History of Magic, pretending to interpret their dreams whenever Professor Trelawney walked by, and were assigned a month-long dream diary at the end of the class.

As Hazel descended the ladder back down to the corridor, she thought that if they were to learn anything of Harry Potter's prophecy, it would have to be from the person that had given it, not some silly Hogwarts professor.

She and Percy followed the rest of the Gryffindors into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and a black velvet bow on top of her head.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally, the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.

"Tut, tut." Professor Umbridge simpered, and Hazel felt the strong urge to vomit. "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 chanted back at her.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

There were groans throughout the classroom. Hazel pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was oddly short, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defense 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 O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, 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 recognize 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. Hazel looked over at Percy. He was staring at the front of the room, jaw hanging open slightly and twiddling his quill in one hand. His paper was completely blank.

Hazel kicked him underneath the desk and he started, noticed the writing on the board, and hastily began scribbling it down as Professor Umbridge continued to speak.

"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. "Mr. Jackson!" She added suddenly, raising her voice. "I should like my pupils to pay attention while I am talking."

Percy looked up, still only partway through copying the course aims. It was hard enough for Hazel to read Professor Umbridge's curly script with her dyslexia, but she knew Percy's was easily the most disruptive of the eight.

"Sorry," he muttered rather sheepishly, putting down the quill.

"Sorry, what?" Professor Umbridge prompted.

Percy shot Hazel a glance that clearly said 'is this woman serious?' Hazel glared back at him, kicking him beneath the desk again.

"Sorry- er, Professor." Percy amended.

"Very good!" Professor Umbridge beamed, showing pointed teeth. "I should now like you all to turn to page five of your books 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 with those pouchy toad's eyes. Hazel turned to page five of her copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

After a few minutes of silent reading, Percy kicked Hazel beneath the desk. She glared at him, sure this was some form of retaliation, before realizing that he was discreetly pointing at Hermione across the room.

Hermione had not even opened her book. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Harry had also looked up from his book. He shot Hermione a questioning look, 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, Hazel, Percy, and Harry were not the only ones 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 than to 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 ejaculated 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, Hermione, and for some reason— Percy, immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense 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 program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"

"But why learn it, then?" Percy exclaimed loudly. Hazel resisted the urge to kick him again. "What's the point in theory if you're never going to—"

"Hand, Mr. Jackson!" sang Professor Umbridge

Percy threw her a murderous look but did not raise his hand, instead thrusting both fists into his robe pockets. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away. Several other people now had their hands up.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Percy said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, theory won't do much—"

"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 criticize 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."

Hazel felt her blood boil at this. Even if Professor Umbridge wasn't referring directly to the demigods, it still stung nonetheless.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! 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 Thomas 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—"

So, according to this woman, the only point of school was to pass tests… Makes sense.

"And your name is?" Umbridge added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses 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 before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"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.

"But then what's the point of learning it?!" Percy exclaimed.

"To pass your examina—"

"But why take the tests, then?"

Professor Umbridge's smile did not falter.

"Mr. Jackson, if you interrupt me again, I will be forced to take points." She said sweetly.

"So according to you, we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Harry said angrily.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry.

Hazel nearly face palmed. He was worse than Percy, if that was even possible.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think…" said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, "Maybe Lord Voldemort?"

The effect was instantaneous. Ron gasped, Lavender Brown uttered a little scream, and 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. Percy's knuckles were white, clenched tightly on the desk in front of him.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward 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 again. Harry, however, stood up. Hazel was torn. Half of her wanted Harry to sit down; she had faced terrors far worse than a stingy professor, but something about Umbridge scared her. The other half of her wanted him to continue. Chiron hadn't been able to tell them much about this Voldemort character, and it seemed like she was finally getting answers.

Hermione, however, had no such qualms.

"Harry, no!" She whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class. Hazel had no idea who Cedric Diggory was, but it seemed that he was somehow connected to Voldemort's return. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at Harry without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.

"It was murder," said Harry. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Harry kicked his chair aside and strode up to the teacher's desk. Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

Harry took it from her without saying a word and left the room, slamming the classroom door shut behind him. Professor Umbridge turned back to the class, smiling sweetly.

"Please continue your reading." She said with satisfaction.

"So that's how it is, then?" Percy said, standing up.

Hazel could've groaned in frustration.

"I will not tolerate impudence and fabrications in my classroom, Mr. Jackson." Professor Umbridge said softly.

"I'm not entirely sure what that means." Percy said, fists clenched. "But if it's anything like you've already said— you're trying to censor us."

"Sit down, Mr. Jackson." Professor Umbridge said, gaze hardening. "Your house has already lost—"

"I dunno if you've ever head of America, but where I come from, there's this really interesting thing called freedom of speech!" Percy said, cutting across her. "And it's actually illegal to—"

"I thought I told you not to interrupt me, Mr. Jackson." Professor Umbridge said sweetly. "That's another ten points from Gryffindor, and I think detention is in order, don't you?"

Percy trust his fist into his robes pocket, hand closed not around his wand, but Riptide.

"Percy." Hazel hissed warningly.

He glanced at her, and they locked eyes. Hazel tried to inflect meaning into her gaze. This was bigger than some petty argument with a teacher. They couldn't break their cover, or who knew what would happen. He seemed to understand, withdrawing his hand from his robes and slowly sitting down.

"Very good." Professor Umbridge said, showing her pointed teeth. "I'm not sure who taught you manners, Mr. Jackson, but they didn't do a very good job." She giggled, a girly laugh that made Hazel want to run to the front of the room and stick her quill straight up her nose. She resisted, however.

"Please continue reading." Professor Umbridge said in a horribly honeyed voice. "Mr. Jackson, see me after class to discuss your detention."

No one else spoke. Hazel stared at the page of her book, not reading, but thinking, hard. When class finished, she unwillingly left the room, leaving Percy to his fate.


A/N

May or may not have used translator for that disclaimer.