Hi! Thanks for da support that you guys have given me! Sorz for da delay, but I had a major case of writer's block. I'll continue writing, and I probably won't abandon the idea, so, without any further ado, on with the story!

Chapter 11

Hermione's POV

The story of the midnight showdown had spread rather quickly. By breakfast, the whole school was gossiping about it.

"I heard that Di'Angelo actually beat Malfoy, Crabbe AND Goyle!" A Gryffindor whispered.

"Yeah, and single-handedly too!" Another replied.

"He's sooooo brave." One girl practically drooled.

"I wonder if he has a girl-friend!" Another girl giggled. Bianca and I rolled our eyes simultaneously.

"I wonder what they would think if I told them that he still holds a grudge against me for stealing his Mythomagic figurine." Bianca whispered to me, I snickered in response.

Just then, the person in question strode into the hall, drawing everyone's attention. A few people applauded, which included most of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Nico ignored the applause and simply sat at the edge of the Slytherin table, resulting in many glares and scared faces swiveling around to face them.

Bianca got to her feet, pushing her food away, following the crowd that was now surrounding Nico. She pushed aside the students, (who shot her indignant looks) and tapped her brother on the shoulder, before she hugged him briefly. "What did I tell you about beating up others on your first day? How many times do I have to remind you? Be careful, and don't hurt anyone too badly, alright?" She gazed at him intently, which would've gotten most students to flinch and look away. Nico only sighed. "Alright, but you remember, I'm not that little boy, anymore."

Bianca smiled gently. "I know. That's why I joined the H-" Nico silenced her with a glare. "School committee." Bianca hastily said. I frowned, I'm pretty sure that wasn't what she was about to say. I reminded myself to ask her about that later. The bell rang suddenly, cutting off the conversation. Bianca hastily hugged Nico. "See you soon! Don't go beating up everybody you see!" She called as he quickly made his way out of the hall, as if he wanted to be out of the limelight as soon as possible.

I watched Ron stuff his face with the remaining scraps of food, before we all stood to leave for our first lesson, which just happened to be the most boring lesson of the day, History of Magic. Bianca caught up with us soon enough and we all entered the classroom together. We sat down at the back (as usual, despite my complaints), readying my parchment and quill, as Binns floated through the door.

"Today, we shall be looking at the Giant Wars…" He started, before pausing gawking at Bianca. "I didn't know you would be here, Miss." He stammered. Bianca blushed. "It's alright, Binns, my father will forgive you for this," Binns evidently relaxed, his shriveled face showing every sign of relief. "Probably." She added, before rummaging through her bag for her quill and parchment. Binns paled, before he gulped. "T-the Gi-Giant W-wars," Binns stammered, the way he did throughout the whole lesson.

I frowned, my mind drifting away from Binns' stuttering voice. Why, or more importantly, HOW, did Bianca scare Binns that much? That was not only disrespectful, but also very suspicious. Also, who is Bianca's father? Why is Binns so scared of him? I frowned again, my eyes darting over to where Harry and Ron sat, playing hangman on the edge of the paper. I sighed dramatically. Honestly, boys.

"C-Cl-lass dis-mi-issed." Binns stuttered, before he hurriedly drifted away through the blackboard. 'How would it be,' I asked Harry and Ron coldly, as they left the classroom for break, 'if I refused to lend you my notes this year?'

'We'd fail our OWL, said Ron. 'If you want that on your conscience, Hermione . . .'

'Well, you'd deserve it,' she snapped. 'You don't even try to listen to him, do you?'

'We do try,' said Ron. 'We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration - you're just cleverer than we are - is it nice to rub it in?'

'Oh, don't give me that rubbish,' said Hermione, "Did you even notice what Bianca said?"

"What?" Ron looked slightly alarmed. "Did Binns reveal the fact that she and her brother are Death Eaters?"

I desperately wanted to slap him. "I'll take that as a no, then." I scowled. "Binns was afraid of Bianca, well, actually he was afraid of her father." I added thoughtfully. "Didn't you notice how he stammered the whole lesson?"

"No." Harry and Ron answered simultaneously, but both seemed to wish they did.

"It's a sign." I thought aloud. "I don't think Bianca is merely a student, or, at least what she tells us. She's definitely something more-"

"Yeah, like Death Eater." Ron interrupted, rolling his eyes. "It's so obvious. She and her brother practice Necromancy, according to what Dumbledore said."

"RONALD!" I practically shouted. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard all day! You have no proo-"

"Actually, Hermione, Ron might have a point." This time, it was Harry who spoke. "Their mysterious behavior could be explained by them being Death Eaters. Come on, Hermione, you have to admit, all the signs point to that."

Though I hated to say it, he was right. "Fine, but innocent till proven guilty." I sighed.

"Did Hermione just admit that we were right?"

"Oh, shut up Ron."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Nico's POV

The dungeon was dark and gloomy. I loved it. Other than the fact that the teacher was an ignorant bastard, 90% of the students are freaked about yesterday's fight and refuse to sit or even be near me. Also, the fact that I was in the same classroom as the blond idiot Malfoy, didn't help. Well, at least Bianca was also in the same class.

Just then, the 'teacher' entered the room. '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 a round faced boy (I think he was 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. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

'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 Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. 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.'

I rolled my eyes, as the rest of the class hurriedly set up their cauldrons and equipment, flicking their potions book to the right page. I shot a glance at Harry, who was clearly sweating it out. I nudged Bianca, before hastily scribbling: Can't believe dey listen 2 dat idi0t. I passed her the note. She rolled her eyes.

Our conversation went something like this:

Bianca: Dey hv 2, s'not like dey want 2.

Me: Den dey idi0t 2.

Bianca: Don't kall dem dat.

Me: Y not? U don't own me.

Bianca: Im still ur sis.

Me: So?

Bianca: So im bigger dan u

Me: *sigh* I thought we betta dan dis.

Bianca: Hey, don't blame moi, just kame bak from da dead.

Me: U hv a point…

Bianca was just writing her reply when Snape snatched the little square of parchment out of her hands.

"Note passing? Miss Di'Angelo? Tut tut." Snape tutted in disapproval. "10 points from Gryffindor." His eyes skimmed over the note, his eyes narrowing as he read the ninth line. "Stay behind after the lesson, I need to have a word with you."

Bianca sighed inwardly, and I completely understood her pain. Staying with Snape is definitely NOT a thing you would like to experience. She looked at me, her eyes speaking the unspoken: Dude, I might need back-up, stay behind. I sighed. Why me?

-0-0-0-0-

"I want to know how you completed the potion in 2 minutes, and what you meant by 'Back from the dead'." Snape sneered as he towered over Bianca, who's face remained impassive.

"Tut, tut." Bianca impersonated Snape. "Didn't your mother tell you 'I want doesn't get'?" She retorted.

Right after Snape read the note, he took a glance at our empty cauldrons. "Tut, tut. That won't do, will it? I'll give you another chance, if you can at least start the basis of a good potion, I will give you a D for trying, instead of a P." Snape sneered at Harry, "Unlike what I would give to some students." Before stalking away.

I shrugged at Bianca, before we both drew our wands out and let Hecate do the work. (Dumbledore had told us that Hecate would help us with all the spells and potions, as long as we say offer more food as sacrifices) Within the next 30 seconds, the substances (that had magically appeared from nowhere) within cauldron had simmered down into a well-mixed liquid, with a slight silver vapour rising from the surface.

We turned out to be the only one who finished the potion, other than a slightly miffed Hermione. The look on Snape's face had been priceless. Bringing us to where we are now.

"That's enough!" Snape yelled, bringing us back to the present. "You've been toying with me for the past few minutes, and I want answers." Bianca rolled her eyes. "Just ask Dumbledore, he knows." She uncrossed her legs and got up from her chair.

"C'mon Nico, lets go!" She called to me, and I obliged, stepping out of the shadows, smirking at Snape's confused expression. I took her hand, and shadow-travelled to the Entrance of the Great Hall, where lunch was already starting. We both walked to the Gryffindor table, where the Golden Trio was conversing in hushed tones. I pulled Bianca back, not wanting to be missing out on what was a potentially invaluable piece of information, walking to the nearest pillar, taking cover behind it.

'…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; as fi she were afraid someone would hear them' . . . now he's in the Order and everything.' I rolled my eyes, they were trying hard to be secretive, he had to give them that, but any person within the area would've been able to hear their rather loudly spoken conversation.

'Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,' said Ron sagely. 'Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?' I had to agree with that one. "Or the fact that the mini Death Eater is just another informant for the You-Know-Who?" I knew they were talking about me. Another sad thing in life. I glanced at Bianca and scowled, she just shrugged.

I pouted, sticking out my bottom lip, before stalking over to the Slytherin table. I turned to see Bianca sticking her tongue out at me. I scowled again.

-0-0-0-0-

Bianca's POV

Divination sucked. Harry had already told me about her habit of predicting his death every lesson. Again. And again. And again. Di immortales! Didn't she ever get tired of that? Apparently she didn't, because right then, she stared at me straight in the eye. "Y-yo-you!" She raised a shaking finger at me. "You sh-should be dea-dead!" I rolled my eyes, masking my surprise, hoping she didn't reveal too much. "Yeah, and how am I sitting right in front of you?" I retorted sarcastically, before slumping into my seat.

Her finger quivered, before she finally knocked saw sense in what I had just said

"T-turn, pleas-please, to t-the introduction a-and read what Ima-imago has to sa-

say on the mat-matter of dream interpret-interpretation. The-en, divide into pairs.

U-use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams." She

gradually stopped spluttering, and I rolled my eyes, before turning to face Harry and Ron, who had gotten their copies of the Dream Oracle. "Is she always like that?"

Harry shrugged. "Yup, but she usually says that to me, not to anyone else though.

Do you know why she told you?"

I tried not to look guilty. "No, I think she just got something wrong." I tried putting on my innocent face, whilst bending the mist, one of the many tricks Nico had managed to teach me overnight. "Doesn't she always do that?" Harry's face cleared. "I-I guess." He stammered thoughtfully. I smiled. Phew!

Divination passed quickly, and soon, it was Defense against the Dark Arts. I had always wondered what this class would be about, after all, did I count as a 'Dark Art'? As soon as I had stepped into the classroom, I the toad's pair of eyes trained on me from the back of the room. Apparently she disliked me.

'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,' We chanted back at her.

There, now,' said Professor Umbridge sweetly (I gagged). 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. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled cut 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.

'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.' (I tried my best to look to strained or strangled)

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by the 'Course Aims'.

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally

he 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 rolled my eyes again.

'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'. (My right eye twitched) 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.' (I was ready to kill her)

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing us all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes.

"But miss!" I raised my arm in the air. The toad ignored me, but my classmates didn't. After a few minutes of unrelenting silence and the entire class' stares, the toad spoke: "What is it my dear, do you have a question about the chapter?"

"No." I sighed. "I-"

"If it's not about the chapter, I shall deal with your queries after the less-"

"I've got dyslexia, so I can't read, which is why I'm probably I will be failing this class, unless there is a practical side to this?" I raised an eyebrow, interrupting her sentence. She turned beet red.

"Well, why don't you ask Dumbledore, then?" The toad replied sweetly, not answering my question.

"I did. He trusted you to have a practical side to your lessons, so he left the matter at there." I leaned back into the seat. "So back to the matter at hand, will there be a practical side to this, I'm going to be failing this course, is that right?

The toad opened her mouth, before shutting it, her face bright red. "Are you questioning the ways of the ministry, my dear?"

"Yes." I shrugged. "Isn't there a thing called 'freedom of speech' in England? Besides, I do think the ministry curriculum won't help, if we only learn the theory, we won't be able to pass the theory section of the OWLs, or be able to defend ourselves in the rea-"

"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 for the first time in the whole lesson. '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 ab-"

"With all due respect, Harry was simply stating an opinion that he has. There isn't, by any chance a law that prevents you from stating your opinion, in the UK?" I raised my eyebrow whilst the toad stayed silent. "I thought so. So there really isn't any valid reason for you to give Harry detention, is there?" I tried to keep my face blank, which wasn't easy, considering that I really wanted to punch her in the face.

The toad turned beet red. "Class dismissed, and so are you, Mr. Potter, from your detention." She muttered.

Harry and me were the first out of the classroom.